My Better Half
by Bug Ugly
Summary: Jack finds himself on a losing slope, and decidedly lacking in allies, as per usual. So, the self proclaimed Evil Boy Genius does something about it, with what could have disastrous repercussions on his ‘evil’ status. Mild AU, no pairings, JackCentric
1. One Is The Loneliest Number

**My Better Half**

**Disclaimer**: _I, in no way, shape, or form own Xiaolin Showdown or the characters it contains. All are the intellectual property of Christy Hui and Cartoonnetwork/WB. I do not make any profit off of this story, and write it only for enjoyment and to pass the time. However, I do claim ownership to the writing itself, and hope that those who read this can respect that as well._

**Category**: _Action/Snugglies!_

**Pairings**: _N/A – though I am told G!Jack and Jack pairing is implied. Go with whichever makes you happier, I suppose._

**Warning(s)**: _Some foul language is used, and there are some light jokes toward Jack's dubious sexuality. These are teenagers, people. Some mild fighting and apparently implied love. (Why does it seem like it?? I just don't see it…) _**MAY CONTAIN SOME SPOILERS FOR SEASONS 1-3. **_So, if that's going to shatter your entire world, you might want to skip this._

**Rating**: _Teen; to err on the side of caution_

**Setting**: _Beyond Season four, maybe a year or two after the last episode, may contain spoilers. Mildly AU in the fact that a leader has not been chosen yet, though this is not mentioned. Assuming the whole time-traveling finale episode never took place/has not yet taken place, and that G!Jack is still in the Ying Yang World_.

**Summary**: _Jack!Centric: Sorry, no romance. Jack finds himself on a losing slope, and decidedly lacking in allies. So, the self-proclaimed Evil Boy Genius does something about it, with what could have disastrous repercussions on his 'evil' status…._

**Style**: _First Person, one POV (Point of View): Jack's_

**Additional Notes**: _I find G! Jack both frightening and adorable. Now, I'm not entirely happy with the final result – Kimiko came across too much of a…well, bitch, then what I believe she really is. So, we are going to assume she is having a Very Bad Week, if you know what I mean. Not to mention G! Jack seems a little more out of character than I'd like, but artistic liberties were taken – plus, he's just so drattedly cute…and disturbing. I tried to stay true to the spirit of the show, and I think I got pretty darn close…compared to what I usually end up doing to any character that falls under the horrifying, warped monstrosity that is my pen._

_This was written completely on a whimsy, and over a couple days (I avoid planning like the plague) – thus, it is completely unedited and unchecked. There are probably plot holes you could drive a semi truck through…however, I am ever too lazy to go back over it. Nonetheless, criticism is greatly appreciated, and I would love to hear your thoughts on how this could improve._

**Part One:**

**One is the Loneliest Number**

"Jack-bots, attack!" It was the usual line, the usual event, and the usual cast. Nothing new, nothing interesting. Still, I plastered my trademark sneer on; striking my most imposing posture…that really wasn't all that impressive. What, with all my sheer manliness, you'd think people would be at least a little afraid, right?

Oh, yeah, I'm one-hundred-twenty-nine pounds of He-man.

_It's days like these I really hate my genes_. Skinny, skinny, _skinny_ – to be frank, I'm built like a piece of macaroni: bendy, pale, and easily torn.

But, more to the point, I was frantically running between bursts of fire and metal and shrapnel – all that was left of another wave of robots – reaching toward the newest Shen Gong Wu. By this time, I really didn't care what it did; any victory at all was an amazing event. However, a certain hulking Neanderthal of a monk saw exactly where that trajectory would land me, and took measures to cease my glory.

Meaning he threw a huge rock at my face.

I screamed shrilly (I mean, I heard, uh, _Kimiko_ scream…shrilly), unable to duck out of the way. The unyielding chunk of earth slammed my head back, feet flying up in the air as I tumbled backward. A sparking fragment of a 'bot flew over my dazed form, (I was just resting, I swear!) fire trailing after it.

"Whoo, that worked the kinks out." One of the more annoying monks stretched, conversationally regaling a heap of destroyed metal to his excruciating accent. "Man, I barely touched this one. What's in these, Spicer – nitroglycerin?" Laughing at his own stupid joke, Raimundo waved toward the object this whole battle was about. "I'm bored, let's get the Wu and get outta here."

Someone's cell phone rang.

I felt a furious twitch start in one corner of my eye.

It had been happening more and more frequently, a response to intense stress, I guess. And it was stressful! I'd like to see you spend hours and hours building armies of robots, only to have them destroyed by people who took you seriously enough to talk on the _cell phone_ while in _battle_! It makes those SUV driving hogs look like considerate people.

I sat up slowly, glowering as the lone female monk chattered blithely with whoever she talked to all the time, her foot crushing a desiccated Jack-bot torso. Nearby, Clay plucked the Wu up, giving me an apologetic grin.

"Don't take it too hard, pardner," the hick said genially, "at least this time they didn't blow up all at once." He referred to last time we had…well, last time I had offered myself up on the chopping block, when I hadn't really exactly…_finished_ all the robot repairs.

Frowning to have my craftsmanship so questioned, I turned a full sulky glare on him, frustrated that he didn't seem in the least worried. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." I waved a hand vaguely. There was a pressing need to say something snarky, but unfortunately, even my nearly infinite well of sarcasm just couldn't produce the right dis. "It's not like I can be really bothered by it anymore."

"Well, see ya later, Barbie girl," Pedrosa laughed gaily, settling onto Dojo's expanded back. "Try to not make is so easy next time, 'kay?"

"Raimundo, Jack's name is not 'Barbie'," The insufferably naïve dragon of water piped up, confusion on his large, round face. Finishing up his putting out of the fires with the Orb of Tornami, the monk turned to the mounted teen. "You know this, correct? You did not hit your head upon one of the many pieces of robot, did you?"

The twitch became marginally more intense.

"Well, you know that Spicer's kinda gir—" The Brazilian caught sight of Kimiko's scowl. Gulping, he quickly changed his heavily accented tune. "I'll, uh, tell you when you're older, Omi."

"With age comes great wisdom," Nodding sagely to himself, the cheese ball clambered atop of Dojo as well. "Patient, I shall be."

_Yoda wannabe. _I nearly smirked at the thought, but caught it before it could properly manifest itself. Instead, I intensified my glower, watching as the last two took their customary positions aboard serpent-esque dragon. "You know I'll just steal it later, right? Why don't you save everyone's afternoon and just leave it here?" Now standing, I tried to appear nonchalant, inwardly wincing at the thought of another long night of repairs and thievery.

"And we'll kick your hindquarters once again, Jack Spicer, and take it back." Omi chirped brightly, waving as Dojo took off - I never have understood how exactly he could fly. "See you there!"

"Yeah, well, your head looks like a basketball!" I shook a fist at him ineffectually, waiting until they were far out of sight to slump back against a wall. "Ah, man, this sucks!" I kicked a Jack-bot head across the cave, listening to the clatters that gradually faded in the distance. Now that no one was around, I gave in to a good, old-fashioned pout, sending expensive, destroyed parts in all directions. Further damage was done when I discovered, with glee, that stomping on crunchable parts was most enjoyable. With gusto, I set myself to the task, though it soon lost its appeal once I remembered I still need said parts. "_Arrrgh_!" Unable to longer sum up my rage by petty violence, I took to shouting guttural, meaningless sounds, and by that eloquence, adequately encapsulated my complaints.

Abruptly bored with such displays, I again fell on my rump, head flopping into my hands. What was the deal? I just couldn't get a foothold on this proverbial mountain of a problem. Everything I set my mind to failed, and miserably, at that.

Being a super villain. _Uh-uh_.

Building robots that didn't just explode or turn on me. _Nope_.

Being the greatest of all evil super villains' apprentice. _No way_.

Holding on to an ally for more than a few days…or at least hours. _As if_.

…Not being a total wuss/pansy/girly boy…well, we'll just not go into that_. No to the infinite power_.

I flicked my gaze downward, to a lifeless husk that remained of a Jack-bot. Gingerly, I picked up its half-smashed cranium, staring into the flat, emotionless eyes. "You know what I'm talking about, right? I mean, you guys fail at everything too. Heck, I might as well just throw your pieces at them, it'd be more effective." Snorting, I sighed and tossed the useless, unresponsive fragment over my shoulder, ignoring how it shattered on impact.

_Time for more pleasant thoughts. _I raked my brain, trying to find something to brighten up over. Crazy robot? Nah. What to do when I eventually take over the world? Eh, it got boring after a while. There had to be something….

When was the last time I had been successful?

I tapped my chin thoughtfully. It had been a while…quite a while, actually. No, the last time I remember winning anything was…

When Wuya was still a ghostly cohort.

Giving in to whimsy, I briefly considered begging her to come back. I'd never admit to anyone, but I was incredibly lonely without her constant nagging and put-downs. Paint me red and call me masochist, it did give me something to focus on, other than my vast sea of bumbling failures.

But in all honesty, I don't think I could handle having Wuya around. She'd become a capital bit—

I shrieked when the nearest Jack-bot detonated, shattering my train of thought. "_Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick_!" Flailing, I fell and rolled away, cowering, my hands flying over my head. "Oh, God, don't hurt me!" Begging pathetically, it took me a while to realize that the cave was utterly still, save for my quivering.

Peeking between my fingers, I scanned the area, suddenly, giddily glad that no one had been around to witness that. Shakily rising, I dusted myself off, re-gathering the shreds of what once was my spine. "That could happen to anyone, you know," I put one hand to the back of my head, looking at the floor. Nervous, I glanced around once more, trying to figure out just whom I was trying to convince.

Well, there was only one thing to do.

I turned to a broken arm of a robot, covered in thick soot and burn marks. Bending low, I cradled it to my chest, like a child, and crooned, "I need to get wasted."

---

"_Wee_!" I squealed, spinning around in my chair. In excited agitation, I stuck out my feet, knocking an entire heap of new, shiny parts to the floor in a wave of clattering destruction. "_Mwahaha,_ you can't schtop my reign of terrrrrr-errrrr." Ignoring the horrifically mangled word, I shoved away again, sending myself spiraling into a rather hard generator. "Oouch, watch wuhere yer goin', budshey. I rule the world, sh'know." Chortling at my own prowess, I decided to be merciful and let the big guy go. Hey, even an evil genius can have bad days, right?

Chugging down another hateful gulp of the decidedly god-awful tequila, I again wondered why exactly bars were so popular. Truly, this stuff was _foul. _ And what was that thing floating around in it? It tasted horrific. And it was chewy…like…jerky. Jerky Jerkinstien McJerkson.

"Stupid monksch," I howled to the desk, blearily attempting at focusing on the map. "…'S'all their fault, y'know."

I had been having a horrible time of it; being so easily cast aside by the monks stung more than I had thought it would. Really stabbed ya in the heart, you know? Not to mention the mocking of a certain currently deactivated robot, once built in desperation of loneliness.

Still, the buzz I was working on did add a more happy sheen to the day.

"…And, and, he wasch all, like, like, 'my name is _Crud_?!'. Ohh, man, that…wasch priceless!" I snorted to the presently off Yes-bot. "I mean, I mean, he didn't even…know what wasch going on, y'know? And his, his mom was like, this old fat lady. Ha, yeah, fat, and she had this, this, mole…thing. Like…like, shcha'know? Yeah? Oh my god, I dun' remember what I wasch talksing about!" Finding this uproariously funny, I laughed until I fell off the chair, curling into a ball of mirth. Though, somehow, along the way, I started sobbing.

"Oh, man, I miss them already," I pulled the Yes-bot down to me, hugging him tightly while mascara ran down my face in a goopy grey trail. "I love those guys! We're bestest friends, y'know. So…so, when I like, rule the world, n'all, when I have ta, ya know, elim-elim-elimmmm-innnnate them, that, that, that's gonna _suck_, y'know? 'Cause, cause, those guys, they're alright, y'know? I wasch almost good once, didja know?" I looked expectantly at the Yes-bot, not in the least disturbed by his manic grin. In fact, I smiled back exactly the same way. "Yeah, that was _crazy_."

I began to blubber again, rubbing my face against the cold metal. "Ah, man, I'm _soooo_ lonely." Affectionately looking into those freakish eyes, I crooned, "You're my only friend, y'know. I love you, man!" Then, frowning darkly, I squinted at his blank form. "But not like that. I dun swing that way!"

Wobbling up to my feet, I staggered into a relatively authoritative stance, thrusting one hand high into the air. "Jack Spicer swings for no one!"

It was here that I fainted.

---

"Dude, you're not looking too hot." Raimundo backed away, wary of catching some horrible disease, no doubt. And I was sure I looked the part of a diseased soul.

Early this morning, I had woken up to the most awful set of sensations I had ever experienced. Cold on the floor, with a pounding headache and fluffy tongue, I came to consciousness with a wrench in my mouth and doused in tequila, the Yes-bot draped over my chest, and no idea of how he (or I) got there. In fact, the whole drinking fiasco was a blur of images and colors, hidden deeply behind the sheen of an acute hangover. However, Shen Gong Wu hunting waits for no drunkard, and so I had dragged my sorry, regretful carcass to the scene.

I hadn't bothered to check my appearance, I was very certain I was a wreck. Without proper care, my wild hair went in all directions. On the way there I had made an honest effort of wiping off that sticky mess that was once my badass eyeliner (_snort_), but all I succeeded in was getting it everywhere. Cranky and tired and sore, I merely stared at the monks, wishing for all the world I was back and tucked into my warm, terribly inviting bed.

But _no_. Here I was, about to get whooped again, in the middle of a god awful desert in Australia. Life sucks, sometimes. It seriously does.

"Jack is a zombie!" Omi yelped madly, pointing one accusing, tiny finger at the tiny game system in Kimiko's hand. "Do not let him touch your heads!"

"Hardly," I snarked to the monk. "If I was, you'd be safe – zombies only like people with _brains_, airhead."

Omi's face scrunched up pathetically.

"What's the stupid thing this time?" Annoyed with their aghast expressions at my condition, I forced myself out of my slump, wincing at the crackling of my spine. "Please say it works better than a cold shower."

"It is the Jutsubu Ring," Immediately, the pompous little puffball sprang upward, pleased to be in the spotlight once more. "It allows one to pull oneself incredible distances. A most useful Shen Gong—"

"You reek of booze," Kimiko interrupted flatly, wincing as she stepped back. Omi shot her a deflated look, before frowning and deciding to ignore the female's slip – because surely all who were in his presence only wished to hear his vast wisdom! …yeah, if you can't tell, that was sarcasm.

"That's usually what one smells like after _boozing_, dorkus." I craned my neck up to where the Wu was…and up, and up some more.

_Figures._

The ancient, mystical object was wedged in a tiny crack at the very top of a cliff, glinting merrily from its perch, as if just to spite all who beheld it. The baking sun probably made it _unbearably_ hot to the touch. And it was _so_ _high_ up there.

"Jutsubu Ring, huh?" I stooped down, grabbing hold of a suitable rock. Closing one eye tight, tongue sliding out of one side of my mouth, I held back my arm and launched the tiny projectile upward. It fell pitifully short.

Shrugging, I turned away, heading back toward my transport. "Ah, well, tried my best. You can have it. Later."

"What? That's it?" Bailey asked, incredulous. "No robots? No speeches? Spicer, you're actin' crazier than a jackrabbit in a rattlesnake hole."

Halfway into the cockpit, I looked back at him, considering. Then, laughing hysterically, I slid into my seat. "Didn't bring any. Sorry. You could always blow up the mountain." Flicking on the appropriate switches, I cheerily waved and took off.

Behind me, left in a puff of dust in the desert, the monks stared up, utterly confused. Finally, Raimundo broke the silence, summing up the mixed emotions and vast well of questions in everyone's heart of hearts.

"That was freaky."

---

Petulantly, I fiddled with another set of wires in the back of a new robot – the 'Bad Idea-bot', to tell me when something is too moronic, because I apparently can't tell – wincing as a spark jumped across my fingertips. "Yeech," Sticking my pinky in my mouth, I glared at the fiend, indignant. "I get no respect around here."

I don't know why, but I expected an answer. When none came, I drooped forward, resting my forehead against the uniformly cold metal. It was crushing, really.

"I don't need anybody." Snarling to myself, I forced my body back upright, tearing into my work. "I don't _need _anybody at all, I just— something." Again growing bored with the task, I gently shoved aside the mess of wires. One hand rubbed at my temples, trying to work out the lingering headache. Oh, it had been days since my last drink (I swore it off for all eternity after that experience), but the feeling seemed to permeate into my very fiber of being.

Groaning, I slid off my stool, planting both booted feet firmly on the ground. "Oh, God, I'm talking to myself…again. The first step toward insanity, check one." Flinging my arms up, I stormed toward the door. "Why can't I just lose it so I don't have to _know_ I'm going crazy? Huh? Huh?!" Up the stairs, I turned back to my expressionless Jack-bots, fixing them an evil eye. "_Huh_?!"

I slammed shut the door, encasing them all in darkness. Only faintly, I heard one observe, quietly, "He's finally gone off the deep end."

Today was turning out to be a brilliant day.

---

It's hard to breathe when you're face down on your mattress, but I wouldn't move for anyone or anything. _Alright, time to fess up_. I was _so, so, so_ lonely. Like, stranded on a deserted island lonely. Crazy lonely.

Hell, I would've settled for Megan at this point, and that's saying a lot.

Sighing, I at last turned my head away from the squishy surface, allowing relatively fresh air to flood my lungs. _Ah, man, teenage hormones suck_.

I could go bother Chase, but I really didn't feel up to being potentially eaten or put down. And, I don't think I would be able to put my usual zest into running away. Too many late nights? Probably. Same with Bean, and Wuya. Maybe I could raid the monks' cache of Shen Gong Wu – that'd force them to at least go after me. Some banter would surely pick up on the mood. Though the butt kicking was not so appealing.

"Well, I _did _promise Omi ice cream," Immediately, I winced at the thought of sharing anything with them. No, frankly, the monks and me, hanging out in a civil, calm session? It was more likely that Hannibal would turn to exotic dancing as a career. "Right-o, then. There's always endless destruction of vast armies of AI."

Preparing to get up and turn on the game system, I didn't move a muscle toward it.

"Can you believe I was once a very active child?" I asked the wall, conversationally, pulling a blanket up around my waist. "Once upon a time, I was going to rule the world, and rule it alone. But then, oh, then, I hit puberty." Placing one hand flat against the surface, pleasantly cool, I smiled. "And I met a hellion of a witch, who told me all about Shen Gong Wu. Some of the best times of my life followed, along with some of the worst. Then, when something better came along, she abandoned me for a hulking caricature – something that wasn't even really alive – and later, anyone who would take her. She called me a useless, foolish boy. But at least…someone was there to call me that." My grin faltered, so I continued.

"I also met a cranky, ancient warrior with a girl's haircut, who essentially sold his soul for a bowl of soup fifteen hundred years ago. An evil idol, really, and he tossed me to a dinosaur." This wasn't helping.

"I hired a fat ninja, and had to ransom his Chihuahua to get my stuff back.

"And a stupid, stupid Russian man with a bad sense of gloating." By this point I figured I had hit rock bottom. Oh, how very wrong I was.

"…And a girl who's crazy obsessed with cats…a magic mime…a French-speaking plant of concentrated evil…a robot who was an improvement over the real me…

"And there was that talking bean."

The pillow went over my face. "I need to find someone who won't betray me."

Shrieking in sudden inspiration, I flung the blanket and pillows away, springing to my feet in renewed zeal. "I have the perfect idea! Why didn't I think of this before?"

Springing in a decidedly feminine way (what? I took dance lessons, and a little grace once in a while is classy), I snagged my coat and heli-pack, donning both items quickly. Rakishly snapping my goggles back into place, I grinned at my reflection. "You _are _a genius."

Then I flung myself out the window, and headed toward the moon-shrouded temple.


	2. Self Loathing On a Whole New Level

**Disclaimer**: I, in no way, shape, or form own Xiaolin Showdown or the characters it contains. All are the intellectual property of Christy Hui and Cartoonnetwork/WB. I do not make any profit off of this story, and write it only for enjoyment and to pass the time. However, I do claim ownership to the writing itself, and hope that those who read this can respect that as well.

**Warning(s)**: Some foul language is used, and there are some light jokes toward Jack's dubious sexuality. These are teenagers, people. **MAY CONTAIN SOME SPOILERS FOR SEASONS 1-3. **So, if that's going to shatter your entire world, you might want to skip this.

(See Chapter One for further information)

**Additional Notes**: I'd like to take this section to thank _Agent47Rulz, averaria_, and _chickens_ for the reviews. Really, it made my day when I found them. Internet hugs and snuggles for all of you.

As a side note, technically, the whole story is finished; I'm just posting it in sections that seem appropriate, and making a rather pathetic attempt at editing it into legibility. Thus, unfortunately, the supposed chapters are rather short – apologies all around.

Jack is such an ass in this chapter; thus, I find it amusing. Though I find it is rather poorly written; my original idea was far, far different from how it turned out, and though I prefer this method, it isn't quite up to snuff. Omi was added simply for the sake of the word 'abstruse'. …Just say it once, I dare you. It rolls off the tongue like wooden blocks. English nerd. XD

Anyhow, the Ying-Yang world 'time' comment was made up purely on the spot– I mean, how else could G!Jack and Hannibal survive in the world? Sorry if it seems contrived – it was the only way to cover the plot hole. At least, the only idea I could have so early in the morning.

So, enjoy. Adieu.

EDIT: I fixed some glaring errors. Sorry 'bout that.

---

_Criticism is greatly appreciated, and I would love to hear your thoughts on how this could improve_. _Seeking reliable beta/editor._

---

**Part Two:**

**An Unwanted Ally**

The monks had not yet gone abed.

They lounged about in their separate cubicles, in various states of repose, talking about everything and nothing. It was a close camaraderie; a group of people bonded by a common goal and common pains, the very closest sort of friendship, battle hardened and trial forged.

_Morons._

Their voices were the perfect cover.

The 'secret' trap door slid downward as the tintinnabulation of the chimes receded, grating sagaciously, if rock were capable of such a thing, against each fellow.

_You'd think they would have some sort of security by now. _I again wondered at how remarkably easy it was to get in and out of their vault. Maybe they just weren't worried about it; confident that they would get whatever was stolen back with ease. After all, I _was_ the only one who stole from them, it seemed.

I blushed at the thought that I was so easily brushed off.

_Well, they'll learn eventually. Everybody will. _ With a renewed sense of purpose, I descended into the spiraling cache, eyes darting quickly left and right, very nearly salivating in avaricious ambition. It was so very tempting to grab every Wu in sight, but it was best to not get greedy – first I would finish my goal, then we could see about gathering more. _After I get really good, after I beat those stupid monks, we'll see who's abandoning who. They'll all be clambering to be on my side. _The mere idea of such a victory sent my nerves a-tingling, a sappy grin plastered upon my face. Oh, I knew _exactly _what I was going to say to each one, and how their faces would look when I—

_Well, best not to get ahead of ourselves_.

Still, I all but pranced to my destination, mind buzzing with images of the other Heylin in various states of humiliation.

"And here we are," Quietly, so different from my usual flair, I opened up the drawer, wincing at the raucous grate of stone on stone. Casting a nervous glance up at the still empty staircase, I reached inside, feeling about until I encountered my target. The grin was unstoppable, and hey, why not indulge myself in a little gloat?

If no one was going to stand by me, I might as well stand by myself, right?

"_Ring of Nine Dragons_," Whispering, I held the Shen Gong Wu aloft, shivering as I felt the magic of the ancients wrap around me. It was addictive, really.

Only one more figure joined me, since previous experience had taught me to not go overboard, and we regarded each other, pleased. _Desperate is as desperate does_, I thought ruefully, eyeing my double. _Wow_, _I _am_ skinny._ "Well, you know the drill." I handed him the Ring of Nine Dragons flippantly, all but tossing it into his hands. He promptly pocketed the item, smirking.

We snagged a handful from the open drawer. I saw the Ying Yo-Yo in my double's hands, but it was pretty much useless without its sister as well. Ah, well, at least it was something. "Grab the Yang too, and try to get some of the better ones before—"

"Jack Spicer, stop, or face a most humiliating defeat!"

At the same moment, we rolled our eyes. "Think of something _original, _for crimony's sake."

I grabbed the first Wu I could, the Silk Spitter, and shouted its name, pointing it at the plainly tired monks, internally praying for a tidbit of lady Luck's favor. Despite my silent entreaty, they effortlessly dodged to the sides, avoiding the obvious attack by a relatively wide margin, though Raimundo and Kimiko clunked into each other in the restricted space.

"Watch it!" They spat at each other, losing focus for but a moment. It was all I needed.

"_Silk Spitter_!"

Both fell to the floor, wrapped up in sticky threads of spider rope. Their furious eyes glared down at me, whilst a much-hampered duo by the names of Omi and Clay struggled to work around them.

"Come on now, Jack, just put the Wu back and we can all go on all nice like," the large blonde endeavored to reason with me, as if I were a suicide jumper, putting up both of his massive hands.

"Nah, don't think so." My double responded superciliously, before shouting, "_Ju-Ju Flytrap_!" pointing it at the surprised cowboy. Bailey staggered back, shouting out in indignant discomfort as the biting insects swarmed around him.

Omi sighed, as if he were greatly burdened, and directed his melancholy gaze upon none other than myself. It was a curious sensation, having the monk looking down to see me – a rare experience for the midget, no doubt. "Must I perform more of the kicking of butts this late?"

"The only butt getting kicked will be yours, cheese ball," I snarled, aiming the Silk Spitter at his large head.

"You have questioned it, Jack Spicer!" Omi cried out, hurling himself downward in some obscure martial arts move.

My mind lapsed, trying to work around what he meant. "Wha_-_?" I yelped as he collided with my chest, sending me bouncing, painfully, down the stairs.

"He meant, 'you asked for it'," My double supplied helpfully as I tumbled past, pulling out another Shen Gong Wu. "_Eye of Dashi_!"

Omi sprang high once again (the disproportionate creature was _remarkably_ agile), narrowly avoiding the deadly bolt of electricity. He landed in a crouch, grinning annoyingly. "Ha, you have missed me!" Crowing, the miniscule boy rose up, placing his hands on his hips. The double-me glowered peevishly, eye twitching.

"Duh," I said, then, "_Tangle Web Comb_!"

"Bu--!" Omi's protest was cut off in a wave of tangled…_hair_. Not exactly a very heroic or intimidating Shen Gong Wu, but it had its advantages.

"Ha, go me." Elated in the underhanded victory the double and I high-fived, pockets filled with Wu. It was nice to have an actual reason to gloat; a rare experience indeed. I took an eyeful of the dumbfounded monks, committing the scene to memory. Unfortunately, it was time to get out of there, since they would most likely escape at any moment.

"Let's skeedaddle while our luck is holding," I advised, hurrying up the steps. Gingerly moving around the struggling, bound Xiaolin apprentices, and narrowly avoiding a frantic hick, I at last gained the top, ready to depart with the Golden Tiger Claws.

The second me hesitated at the top, glancing back down at something.

Omi had somehow broken free of the hair trap, displeasure radiating off of his diminutive form in waves. The monk flew forward in a series of rapid blows, sending my double soaring across the small chamber. Wu from loose scattered about his route, leaving a trail of potentially deadly objects.

Diving forward, Omi seized the Ring of Nine Dragons, and pointed it right at me. "Sto-" but the sciurophobic had already activated the Wu. I felt myself lifted, a brief sensation of being…_pulled _and _pushed_ at the same time – and then we were a single person again. Body trembling violently, I fell to my knees, reeling as the sensations of being two people resettled into one.

Omi shook his gigantic head slowly, slipping the Ring into wherever he usually hid such things. "Jack Spicer, you should learn that two wrongs do not make a left." The abstruse statement left me gaping for a few moments, ferociously working my mind over it, before I groaned petulantly, slapping a hand over my face.

"That isn't even applicable to this situation!" I snapped at him, groaning at a sudden bout of perspective slip, blinking rapidly.

"Regardless," He flapped his hands disarmingly, "you should know that evil will never triumph. If you choose this path of…." I lost interest right about there, and began to scan the Wu, seeing if any were small enough to grab and run.

Then, a particular one caught my eye, prompting a malicious sneer.

Covertly, I eyed Omi, figuring he was pretty much wrapped up in his own magniloquent little speech. Absolutely dead to the world.

Before I could properly even consider the course of action, I had seized the coveted Wu, its name already rolling off my tongue as I tackled the flummoxed monk. "_Ying Yo-Yo_!" Let the little bastard come out evil—

_Ah_. _Right_.

I hadn't really considered momentum in my complex equations. Or much of anything else, for that matter.

Thus, we both toppled toward the churning vortex, Omi indignantly complaining of the interruption, myself trying to haul ass backward. However, in a moment, we had gone completely over, surrounded by the eerie 'landscape' that was the Ying-Yang World.

For a time, we were inert, a living pile of shocked teenaged confusion.

"…that was very stupid of you, Jack Spicer." Came the very quiet voice beneath me. I grimaced at the obvious statement, gingerly rising off of the annoying twerp.

"Yeah, well, tell me something I don't know." I scanned the surrounding area, half hoping the portal was still open.

As luck would have it-

It wasn't.

"I think I have some hair in my mouth from earlier," as if to prove his honesty, Omi thrust one finger into his mouth, digging about for said irritation. I quickly made a disgusted face, sliding away from the drooling child.

"You take things _far _too literally."

After finding the hair, it was quickly wiped off on a pant leg, left there in a perverse sense of scandalized nature. "Well, now you must take us home," Omi sighed eloquently, folding his saliva-covered hand into his sleeve.

_Note to self; do _not_ let Omi touch you. _ Thusly perturbed, I stuck my tongue out of my mouth, shuddering at his lack of cleanliness. I unthinkingly responded to his demand, still held in awe of the sheer horror that was evident in a single hair. "Can't, genius; not without the Yang Yo-Yo. We'd come out all opposite."

For a time, we sat in silence, staring at each other. Then, slowly but surely, the realization dawned on the diminutive cretin, working its way through his wax-choked ears and into his smug little brain. It was like seeing one of those excessively gory Nile crocodile specials on Discovery; horrified, yet unable to look away, I watched the birth of thought bloom in a primitive mind. Expressive brows drew low over dark eyes, strange freckle-dots brightening into violent life. "_What_?!"

"You already knew that!" I shrieked, catching the human projectile before he could reach my face. Thankfully stubby arms flailed wildly, forming into an odd blur of yellow and red. "Don't hurt me – I'm fragile! Fragile I say!"

"You trapped us in the Ying-Yang World? How could you do such a stupid thing?" Omi ripped himself free, allowing me to scoot away, cowering, and resettled himself into a cross-legged pose. "This is completely punched."

Lapsing into an old habit, I pondered for a moment, sitting up again, though much further away from my unpredictable companion. "…You mean, 'this is totally whack', right?"

Fixing me with a steady look, Omi sighed. "That makes no sense."

"That's pretty lame by itself, y'know. Retro-eighties lingo." For the sake of conversation, I tried again.

"I am not gimpy, nor old." The twerp seemed genuinely insulted.

"I meant- oh, never mind." Huffing, I crossed my arms in front of my chest, glowering at the strange world. It _was_ a rather creepy place. Weird lighting – it looked like something out of a 'Nightmare on Elm Street'. The red highlight was surreal, at best. Where was it coming from, anyhow?

…_It's quite dark in here, too._

Arms tightening abruptly, I hunkered down, deeper into the fog that never abated. My eyes darted wildly; I could swear something was watching us. "Uh, Omi, I think that, uh, we, um, should, uhh, well…_eep_." I trailed off ineffectually, catching sight of something I honestly wish I had never seen.

The fog had swirled.

_Swirled. _

Moved on its own.

Screaming in horror, I leapt to my feet, much to a certain monk's surprise. "_Ohmyfreakinggawd_-_there's-something-out-there_!" I had somehow ended up cringing in a tiny ball behind a suddenly very heroic, impressive looking Omi. "Don't let it eat me. I'm not very eatable. It doesn't agree with me."

"Where?" The monk, ignoring my trembling and whining, scanned the area attentively.

"How should I know? It all looks the same out here," Nonetheless, I peeked over his gargantuan head – thinking it would be an excellent shield – and pointed to where it had moved. "Right there, I think."

"Very well; I must investigate." Omi started forward, but I quickly clutched hold of his rather tiny legs.

"_No_!" In the face of his annoyance, I changed my plea. "Er…don't leave me back here…alone." With a hopeful grin, I googly-eyed him, terribly afraid of being left to my own devices in this awful world.

After giving his eyes a good roll, the monk turned away. "Come along then," Sighing, as if a great burden had been placed upon his shoulders, Omi started forward, all but dragging me behind him.

The fog swirled once more, deathly silent. The air seemed very still, as if all were held in baited rapture, waiting for the outcome of this mystery.

I'm pretty sure, given the look Omi cast me, that I whimpered pathetically at this point.

"Show yourself," The monk, bolstering his own courage, demanded, infinitesimal body tensed. In answer, the mist moved, stirred, rippled, and exploded upward, something dark looming from the shroud of strange fog. Both myself and the monk screamed, clutching each other.

_It_ lunged, psychotically grinning, arms flung wide to ensnare us both—

"_Hug_!" He seized Omi and myself in a bone-shattering embrace, as if attempting to smother us with affection. "Awww, I missed you guys." Snuggling alternatively into our captured chests, he clenched down once more, undoubtedly causing internal trauma, before releasing us to drop to the loosely termed 'ground'.

"…not…_you_…again…." I gasped from a crumpled heap on the floor, twitching weakly. Good-Jack beamed down at me, waving slightly.

"Yuppity-doodles!" He cried in a singsong voice, radiating happy-good-good feelings. Nearby, a certain yellow monk smothered a giggle.

"…There's no way in hell you are a part of me." At last, grunting, I lurched to my feet, swaying unsteadily. Good Jack was there in an instant, supporting my weight. I growled at his assistance, shoving him away, hard. Or at least, trying to.

"Aww, just like a giraffe baby," He tittered maddeningly, hugging me once again.

"Hey, hey! Leggo!" I struggled against his hold, frustrated beyond belief that my day had gone so terribly awry.

"I am most gladdened that it was you, and not the Chi monster, that found us." Omi patted Good Jack on the arm, a smirk spitting his melon of a face. I've never wanted to punch that self-righteous little brat more that in that moment…which I guess is saying quite a bit, because I pretty much want to punch him _every_ time I see him.

"I get that a lot," the most unwelcome freak '_tee-hee_'d, of all things, returning the smile. "I mean, whenever I see anybody. Which is like, never. But if I did, I'm sure people would say that." He eyed me fondly while speaking, only occasionally beaming at Omi.

Finding this disturbing, I took measures to make certain his joy was squashed as much as my pride was. "Shouldn't you be dead?" I asked spitefully, slinking out of range of his arms.

"Nope," Brightening, he scuttled closer, ignoring my unimpressive attempt at escape. "Time doesn't work the same here, I guess. That's probably why Hannibal lived so long here, but what do I know?" Giggling, the horrible apparition reached out, trying to fiddle with my goggles. I darted aside, making sure he got an eyeful of how much I detested him simply by expression.

However, his words soon caught up with my consciousness.

"How marvelous," I groaned, face palming. "Eternity with _you two._" _My face is starting to sting._

Reminded of our predicament, Omi looked again to my second self, sheepish. "Ah, yes. Unfortunately, Good Jack, we, too, are trapped here," I was thankful that the Twinkie didn't go into details. I don't think my pride could have handled it.

"Oh _yay_!" Exclaiming with unrequited joy, my good half _leaped _up, nearly dancing with his elation. However, that was soon deflated as he caught the expressions that were writ across both my own and Omi's faces. "I mean…that's terrible." Ever optimistic, despite his words, the freak continued grinning. "But this'll be great! We can…uh…stare at the fog. Yeah! I do that a lot. Not much else to do. Swirly!"

"I'd never have guessed." Drawling, I watched as he excitedly pointed at a particularly curly fog tendril. "Well, I'm going to go find a rock to bash my head in with. Later, losers."

As I strode past the pair, one leaned forward abruptly, snagging hold of the frayed end of my coat. "Oh, what's that?" Good Jack flicked a side of my trench coat, giggling. "Is it a ball in your pocket?"

Omi's face deadpanned.

I thrust one hand up to the halfway mark of my forearm within the said pocket, nearly shuddering with hope. Dark eyes met and held mine; we both took a deep breath, and I pulled out the round object, barely daring to hope.

"Oh, thank God." I breathed out, giddy with relief. It was the Yang Yo-Yo.

"You've had it all this time?" the monk was torn between resentment and delight, resulting in an amusing vibration of eyebrows.

"The double must've pocketed it," reasoning out the inexplicable favor fate had finally forked over; I glanced up at my compatriots.

"Now, quickly, take us home." Omi commanded, every word radiating authority. To spite him, I flicked the Yo-Yo slowly, despite my sincere wish to leave. Then, a second time, grinning.

Meanwhile, Good Jack's face could have melted glaciers.

"Already?" He whined, lower lip quivering.

I snorted, not caring a jot for his apparent desolation; glad to not have to endure another moment more of his company. "Duh. As soon as…" I paused, stomach doing a back flip as a thought crossed me. "…Where's the Ying?" Alarmed, I blinked rapidly, blanking out as the realization hit me.

Again, the tiny monk's face went slack.

"You did not drop it, did you?" With rising apprehension, I patted down my trench coat, hoping, praying, and_ wishing _for an enchanted child's toy to be in there somewhere.

"I-I-I _just_ had it, I swear I did!" Panicking, I fell to the ground, feeling about where we had been…_uh-oh. _"Where did we come in at?" Catching up with my train of thought, Omi looked about, an expression of horror settling upon his features.

"I do not know!" His breathing hitched slightly. Around us, the featureless landscape offered nothing more than gently undulating fog.

"Look over there, then," I pointed in the direction I thought we had come from, still giving the clammy ground a pat down. "It has to be nearby; we didn't go very far. We just need to keep calm." Despite the words, my voice was pitched high, as it always was when I was about to give in to hysterics completely. "Oh man, oh man, where is that stupid thing?"

"I believe we came from over there," Omi pointed to a vague location to the left, trudging toward it immediately.

In a rare moment of rational thought, I stopped Omi's search, flinging out one hand. "Hey, wait. We could get even further away if we just keep running around pell-mell. We'll never find it at this rate."

"Then what _should_ we do?" Irritated, he turned to face me, arms waving as if he thought he could fly away.

"Uhh, um, lemme think a minute, will ya?" Biting my lower lip, a habit when deeply in thought. It seemed like my mind couldn't handle the pressure. Then, as I stared at the massive circle that was Omi's face, inspiration struck. "Okay, uh…one of us needs to stay in one place at a time, like a marker, and we can have the other spiral outward, until we find it. I mean, it can't be very far off, right?"

"Do not count your eggs before the chickens are present," Said the puffball ominously.

I wasn't even going to try.

"Get your pessimistic toosh over here and start looking!" I demanded, still vainly scanning the placid surface of the unnatural mist. _What a way to end the week._

---

It could have been hours by the time we gave up.

Of course, no _physical_ time passed at all. It was rather disappointing; at that rate, I'd never starve to death.

"Do not despair; it has to be somewhere nearby," Omi sighed into his hands, sitting back to back with myself as we rested. Good Jack had wandered away some time ago, probably bored with the hopeless search. "If anything, we could go back…and the others could restore our chi afterward." Optimistic, the dragon of water glanced back to gauge my response.

After a brief pause of consideration, I cast aside the idea. "Nah, it'd be a continuous cycle without the Ying; pointless, unless you _want _to go Heylin." I felt a twinge of guilt at his crestfallen frown.

Sighing again, the young monk lapsed into silence.

"You seem pretty down."

I shrieked at the unexpected voice, throwing my arms over my head and begging for it to _not to eat me_. My other half regarded the spectacle with a smirk, waiting until I belatedly recognized him. Humiliated far beyond reasonable levels, I looked away, not meeting his open smile. "Go jump off a cliff," Huffing, I arched my shoulders, burying my head in the collar of my trench coat to hide my stark blush.

"That doesn't work here, silly goose." Without asking, he joined our little gathering, plopping down right next to Omi. "It's really not all that bad. It could be much, much worse." Warming to his subject, he continued blithely onward, seemingly indifferent to his company's mutual misery. "Well, you have this pretty red color on everything. It could be completely dark; that'd be bad. And there is the fog, I'm sure it'd be just dandy for tag and games like that. Oh, and there's Hannibal's freaky prison, that's always fun. And—"

"Yeah, yeah; the glass is half-full, blah, blah, blah," I gave him a sideways glance. "Don't you ever say anything useful?"

"I told you about the Yo-Yo in your pocket," Defensive, he nonetheless managed a grin. "Does that count? 'Cause I could go on."

"No, that doesn't 'count'," Archly responding, I, very maturely, turned my back on him, crossing my arms over my chest. After a moment's thought, I added, "I would have found it eventually anyways."

It seemed he was going to let sleeping dogs lie, but then he just had to add on. "Well, considering how absent minded you are…" He trailed off, shrugging.

Very slowly, I went back around to face him. "…_What_?" drawing out the word into a sharpness not unlike a knife, I regarded him with something akin to outrage on my face.

Unaware or unwilling to acknowledge the sheer malice in my voice, he cheerfully continued. "I said, 'considering how absent minded you are'." Then, elaborating, "You're always losing things, anyway. I suppose because you're so scatter-brained. ADD, even." He rambled on, oblivious. "It could also explain why you never win." Thus explaining his reasoning, he decided to go on for a bit longer, seeming as his audience was so _rapt_. "I think you're losing your hearing, too. It's probably from all those loud explosions whenever you go to a Showdown— did you know your eye is twitching?"

I lunged forward; reaching out to strangle the little freakazoid into oblivion. However, such an act was foiled as my foot landed on something that was not quite as flat as the surrounding area. With an '_umph'_ and a yip, I landed on my face, legs splayed awkwardly, knees aching. "…son of a—"

Good Jack slapped his hands over Omi's ears as I fell into a rather lengthy rant of Very Bad Words, shouting, "Watch your language! There are children present."

After a time, partially satiated and thoroughly out of words, I felt around the ground for the object that had been my undoing, making ready to hurl it into the void. "I'll show you who—" Cocking back my arm, I took careful aim at the distance.

"Stop!" Omi cried out, tearing free of the double's hold to latch on to my own arm, stopping it before it could hurl what I had grabbed into the oblivion that was the sky.

"What, are you…ah." Deciding it was worth a look at what I had accidentally tripped over, I nearly jumped with surprise. The Ying Yo-Yo was innocuously cupped in my gloved hand. "There it is." I felt vaguely uneasy about the quirky happenstance.

Sitting back in shock of what I had almost done, I stared blankly at the object, incredulous. It was so…so absurd, so _coincidental_, that I abruptly became incensed over it, clenching the Yo-Yo as hard as I could. That wasn't right at all. I had painstakingly combed the area; there was no way it could have escaped my notice. "That's…so stupid. It was right there the whole time? That's ridiculous. I would have found it!" I looked to the monk for support, absolutely certain that I had checked that spot.

Omi pulled something out from his sleeve, regarding me with that haughty stare he so often wore, rebuking me silently. "At least you found it at all, Jack Spicer. Take a lesson from this incompetence and improve your searching abilities." Chiding in his tone, Omi further reprimanded me, causing a red blush to spread across my face. _Trust that pompous little…_

My eyes struck upon what he was holding, jaw dropping.

_Waitaminute_.

"You took the Yang? You _stole _from me?" I slapped the pocket it had been in, as if it would have been there, glaring at the rapscallion that had so desecrated the laws of Good and Evil. "That's my job!" I lurched at him, snatching at the Wu, but he easily dipped away, holding the object close to his chest.

"You could not be trusted with it," He warned me sagely, utterly calm in the face of my wrath. "Obviously."

"I—it - _argh_, you're so irritating." Harrumphing, I stood up, ready to really lay into him. But then, an idea manifested itself deep within my mind. Easing into an more relaxed pose, I acted as if I let go of the insult, emanating insouciance. Suspicious, Omi backed away, eyeing me doubtfully. I tried all the harder to appear casual, allowing a sigh. "Well, no use crying over spilled milk. Hand over the Yang and we'll get out of here."

He almost moved for it.

"I do not trust you alone to command the Wu, Jack Spicer. I should do it, since I am most likely to keep their oaths here." _Cagey little runt_.

"Oh, please. You'd leave me here in an instant." I clutched the Ying closer, protective. Smiling warmly, "I promise to not leave you behind." _Ah, that was believable. _

Stubborn, Omi shook his wide head, not in the least fooled. "Your word is as a cup for the distilled liquid grapes of whine," He waved off the promise, chortling. "No; I am a Xiaolin monk. Therefore, I am the most trustworthy." One little hand came out, demanding to be filled with the sister of his Wu.

I considered it. It _was_ true; he _did_ have a tendency to keep his word, no matter the circumstances; the escapade with Chase and the original source of Good Jack had proven that. An idiotic child, but still an honest one. However, I decided to be obstinate, and slapped the proffered limb away. "Nuh-uh!" I stuck my tongue out at him, keeping the Ying far out of his reach.

"Yes-huh!"

"Like I can trust someone with a head that big."

"The size of my head has nothing to do with it!"

What followed was a litany of maturity. Eventually, however, we soon came to the realization that neither of us was going to back down, and gave up on the argument.

"This will get us nowhere, swiftly." Omi sat back down, fiddling with the Yo-Yo.

"We're _already_ nowhere," I muttered, pausing long enough to assert my dominance of height, then flopping back down again, realizing it was futile, chin in my palm. "Well, isn't this just _peachy_." We stared at each other, trying to work out how to go about our mutual escape without giving in. It was a silly debate, really- but I was nothing if not stubborn.

_Maybe I should just let him do it. _Unhappy, I opened my mouth to reluctantly concede, when I was interrupted by a forgotten third of our trio.

"I can do it." Good Jack quietly piped up, glancing between us.

"And why should you be the one?" I asked him dryly. I thought it was quite clear from my tone that I expected little of his answer, and was certain to scoff at it the moment it was uttered. He didn't seem to understand the subtlety, instead perking at the acknowledgement.

"Well, I'm effectively neutral between you two; being on the side of good, and part of you as well." Pleased with his logic, he preened. "So I have no reason to betray either side." As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I glowered darkly at his beaming countenance, not yet willing to give up the battle, but not seeing how I could really argue without coming across as silly.

"Ah, a most excellent solution." Omi sprang to his feet, grinning brightly as he handed the vested wonder his Wu. "Jack, hand over the Ying."

I eyed the duo carefully, not in the least pleased, but shrugged and tossed the Yo-Yo to them, sulking. "Whatever."

Omi made an admonishing gesture, then handed Good Jack the captured artifact. "Now, open the portal." What, did we need step-by-step instructions on everything?

Holding both the Wu, he turned to face the emptiness, and flicked out both at once, activating them as he did so. The purple haze that was the rift between the worlds opened itself as a torn maw of some beast. Uncomfortable with the imagery, I nonetheless shoved Omi through first, since the moron was standing in the way, and ducked in after him, half-hoping that it would close after us. Unfortunately, a certain uninvited someone followed.

"Oh, wow; would ya look at that." Good Jack tipped his head back to stare in apparent wonderment at the bedazzling stars above. "It's been a while since I've see those. Hello!" He waved jubilantly at the sky, dopey grin plastered on his face.

"Hey, how 'bout you go for another whirl through the portal?" I waggled a brow suggestively, pointing to the Wu as he tore his enraptured eyes away from the sky. "It'd be pretty fun, huh? Go to see the swirly fog again." It was rather callous of me, but hey, that's why I'm on the evil side.

"But this belongs to the monks," He informed me, seeming as if the very notion had upset him greatly. Jumping back, Good Jack quickly removed the twin set of Wu from his person, handing it to a broadly grinning Omi. "Here you go, lil' fella. You have fun with that now, okay?" He even patted the itty-bitty eyesore on the head warmly, the very image of a goody-two-shoes.

I wanted to vomit.

"That's it, I'm outta here," I announced to no one in particular, throwing up my hands in exasperation. "You can keep him, Twinkie – later, losers."

Stalking out of the temple, making certain I _really_ stomped down, just so they could know exactly how I felt about the whole situation, I prepared to take off. However, someone leaping upon my back foiled even that simple act, sending me stumbling forward.

"Don't leave yet! I just got here," Good Jack wailed morosely, arms wrapping around my throat, legs around my waist. "We haven't even caught up yet."

"_Egack_!" I choked, staggering under the added weight. "Ge'off!"

"You smell like shampoo," He said warmly to my demand, nuzzling into my head. "And motor oil!" Excited, he smoothed out my hair, much to my irritation. It was supposed to be messy; an essential part of my _look_.

I felt the tic start up in my left eye again.

"I'm going to murder you," Snarling, I tried to reach back, to fling him off of me, but the crafty little bastard wriggled out of reach. "Come here, so I can give you a _hug._"

"Aw, I know you don't mean that," Good Jack pouted, thankfully sliding off my shoulders. I turned to face him, warily eyeballing his dejected form. It was petrifying when he abruptly brightened, that too-sweet grin unexpectedly exposed. I started to backpedal, dreading what was coming next, but it was too late, far too late. "But I'll give you one anyways!"

"Don—!" I wheezed as all the air was squished from my lungs again. I think some of my organs collapsed under the strain. "You're…gonna kill me...with this." Gasping, I fought for every breath, blushing hard at the idea of the spectacle we undoubtedly made. "PDA! PDA!" Trying to reason with the beast that was my better half, I pushed out with my arms, wanting nothing more than to run far, far away.

Giggling, Good Jack released me again, straightening my shoulders and dusting off my front, despite my attempts at slapping him away. "Dying of hugs, how absurd." He smiled up at me (had I really grown taller since we last met?) hands clasping in front of his rather silly vest. "You're funny."

"Oh, yeah, a regular stand-up act." I looked up at the sky, shaking an angry fist. "_Ha-ha_! I hope you're laughing, you crazy bastard!"

Good Jack was still grinning.

Greatly disturbed, I looked for an excuse to get him to leave my presence. "Y'know, the Xiaolin lo- I mean, the monks are much more _funny. _And they _are_ good, after all. So, why don't you go back and help them up, because it'd be, y'know, the _good_ thing to do." Sidling out of range of those horrible, clingy hands, I prepared to take off as soon as his back was turned.

But, life threw another hardball, for sheer amusement.

"Nah, we're alright up here." Raimundo was practically shaking from holding in his laughter, disentangling himself from the last of the web. "Besides, good and evil are relative terms."

Eagerly taking up this train of logic, the oddball nodded, adding "And we're two peas in a pod!" Good Jack leaped up, and I stuck out my arms on instinct, hating myself more than ever when I caught him. Glaring in abhorrence, I let the prancing nincompoop drop to the ground, fixing the monks an evil eye.

"But good belongs with the Xiaolin side, whereas I am clearly Heylin. Therefore, I make the motion that it is here that he truly belongs." I nodded sagely, refusing to look down at the puppy eyes I was being pinned with. There was no way in hell he was coming with me. "Besides, he's all…_too_ _happy_. And what's with that vest?" My face burned at the superior looks the Xiaolin dragons had adopted. It seemed they were _ever_ making such faces.

"I belong with you, though," the unbearable little goblin grabbed my knees, eyes wide and shining. "Think of the peas! And the pods!"

"Let go!" I shoved his whole head back with one hand, brusquely wrenching my legs away. "You're like a _leech_."

"Someone has to show you the way of goodness," Omi hurriedly called out from the temple steps, his eyes bright with inspiration. My head jerked up at the sound, dreading where it was leading to. "And who better than your good half!"

"But I'm _not_ good, I have _no_ intention of _being_ good; I'm evil! Evil I say!" Swiftly, I attempted to dislodge the seed of an idea germinating in Good Jack's head. His eyes sparkled with a surely wicked intent, biting his lip in glee as he sat upright. I waved my hands frantically in the universal sign for 'cease and desist', backing away. "No, no, and no! _Evil_ boy genius; it'd ruin the phrase. Think of the balance of life – _evil_!" I protested as he rose up onto his feet, hands clasping each other in his joy.

"Wee!" He sprang forward again, hurtling with arms outstretched, only to fly over my ducked head. "I'm not leaving until you're nice and good." He rolled to his feet, springing after me as I made a frenetic attempt at to run away.

I gasped raggedly as he again seized my chest, embracing me warmly. Pleadingly, I looked to the monks, who were all (save Omi, who didn't realize what was so amusing) cracking up, slapping each other on the back at my expense. "Kill me now, please."

"Aw, that wouldn't be very nice, now would it?" He snuggled me again, inducing a moan of protest and disgust. "You're all _wiggly_." Giggling, he crushed my ribcage again, delighted.

At last, I gave in, slumping in his inescapable grasp. He had made up his mind, and I was far too weak-willed to fight anymore.

"Don't worry; you'll be good sooner than you think." Good Jack struck a pose, whirling me around to face him. "Now, to the Lair of Cuddliness!" Squeaking in his delight, the annoying figure pranced about, as evil as a care-bear on ecstasy.

The Xiaolin dragons sniggered wickedly.

"…Don't ever call it that again." Feeling weariness far beyond my years, I groaned, grabbing my other half's arm, and dragging him from the temple, the mirth of the monks ringing in my burning ears.

---

"You need to clean up more often," Good Jack told me sternly, dusting one of the many generators. A pink apron from god-knows-where was tied around his waist, though his entire trademark outfit was still present. In response, I shoved my head lower, trying to drown him out in a sea of machinery. However, it was not to be, as he continued. "It's absolutely filthy in here. A clean Lair is a happy Lair!" Amused by something in the silly sentence, he put a hand over his mouth, chortling.

I did not get the humor.

"It's not _supposed_ to be a 'happy' Lair," I at last turned to face him. "It's an _Evil _Lair – a place of where havoc, chaos, and suffering is planned, _not _happy-snuggly-cuddly time."

"Is it three already?!" Good Jack hurriedly looked down at his acquired watch (he apparently believed deeply in punctuality) and guffawed nervously. "Silly goose, it's only eleven." The feather duster was waved in my face, inducing a fit of sneezing.

"Pfft, whatever." I shrugged him off, batting the duster aside. "I have work to do." Thus clearly stating my wish to be alone, I slouched back over my oh-so-precious project, refocusing on the doom-bot I had recently begun on. Namely, early the previous morning. But, I was ever dedicated to my task. _Coffee is a godsend_. Mulishly, I poked at the long-cold cup, wondering if I should make a fresher batch.

Good Jack didn't get the hint. "What are you building?" He asked quietly, obviously fascinated.

Sighing, hoping that by my very reluctance he would get the point, I very slowly and grudgingly turned to face him. "It's a robot. You should know; you are – unfortunately – a part of me."

"But not all. I have no idea how any of that fits together," He gestured toward the mass of wiring. "It's amazing that you can keep all of _that_ straight."

I realized that, for the first time in a very long time, I had been given an honest compliment. Uncomfortable, I eyed him askance. "Yeah, well, evil genius isn't just a whimsical title." It was awkward, to say the least. There was a long silence between us, as I tried to figure out the best way to further respond to the praise. However, due to lack of experience, I had no idea, and opted to do what I had done to Wuya when she had first returned.

I went as cold as possible, deciding to ignore him completely, again welding the wires together.

Not one to be brushed off, Good Jack leaned closer, looking inside the outer husk of the soon-to-be Doom-bot. "What does it do?" His voice broke my concentration into little pieces once more.

…Still, it was kind of nice to be acknowledged by someone…even if it was just another me.

Uncomfortable, I again went for what I knew.

"It's gonna blow things up," I answered sassily, falling back on sarcasm for the sake of security. "Hopefully I can test it out on _you_."

I felt his wounded emotions digging into my rather small conscience, but chose to delve deeper into my work rather than face actually having to apologize. Mercifully silent, he withdrew, continuing on with his cleaning, and leaving me without interruption nor distraction.

After fighting back an uncharacteristic bout of guilt, I again immersed myself in the one thing that I knew exactly where to stand, and forgot all about my unwanted guest.

---


	3. Bonding With Myself

**Disclaimer**: _I, in no way, shape, or form own Xiaolin Showdown or the characters it contains. All are the intellectual property of Christy Hui and Cartoonnetwork/WB. I do not make any profit off of this story, and write it only for enjoyment and to pass the time. However, I do claim ownership to the writing itself, and hope that those who read this can respect that as well._

**Warning(s)**: _Some foul language is used, and there are some light jokes toward Jack's dubious sexuality. These are teenagers, people._ **MAY CONTAIN SOME SPOILERS FOR SEASONS 1-3. **_So, if that's going to shatter your entire world, you might want to skip this. _

_(See Chapter One for further information)_

**Additional Notes**: This chapter was really difficult for me. I kept going back and changing it almost every day, unhappy with the results. Sooo sad. Wahh.

Mmm, recommended music for this would have to be '_Save Me (Wake Up Call_)' by Unwritten Law. I recently rediscovered the CD (_Here's to the Mourning_) in my ooooold CD holder, and I think it really sums up Jack in this story. Ha, so lame, I know. Plus, I just love the song- it's so whiney. However, I'm tentative about posting the lyrics up here – it is recommended that you search it with Google on your own time. XD

It makes me happier than a senile person with adult size diapers.

In case anyone was wondering, because I don't think I was very clear (XD meaning my explanations are as clear as an oil slick) on how the heck G!Jack is shorter; physically, he is still exactly the same as when he was originally left in the Ying-Yang world. Time passed, but not to his _physical _form; thus he appears to be the same age he was before, around fifteen or so, I figure, whereas B!Jack was free to grow up – he's about seventeen or eighteen in this story.

Still not very mature, but old enough to be considered an adult. Bad move, legal age system. Bad move.

Gah, I got a crazy idea about halfway through tidying up Chapter four…and now I have deleted my previous ending/chapters. The last half is completely different. O..o It's going to be quite a bit longer – sorries all around. It also means I'll have to rewrite the ending and all that. Oh _noes_.

Without any relevance at all: XD, Chimborazo was added for a friend, who, whilst we were taking an Knowledge Bowl written test thing, leaned in and started rattling off facts about it. So, for amusement and to sort of push the 'see, see, he IS smart!' thing, I had her repeat it over the phone while I typed. When she started going too fast, I just cut it off. XD

…she kept talking though. It was almost sad.

I'll stop rambling now – Enjoy, and ciao.

---

**Part 3:**

**Bonding With Myself**

**(In which, something ACTUALLY happens)**

"Oh, wow, you can see everything from up here!" Gack, as I had started calling him, smashed his face right up against the window, staring out at the Chimborazo Mountain that spread majestically in either direction. "Look! A bird!" He nearly leapt out of his seat in excitement.

"The Chimborazo is the mountain furthest away from the center of the earth," I rattled off the fact, simply for conversation's sake, not even attempting to look at the bird that had so ensnared his attention. "though it's not the tallest. I think it was around the area of six thousand two hundred sixty seven feet in elevation- _which is why we will not be opening the cockpit_."

Gack sheepishly removed his hand from the lever, sliding back in his seat.

I rolled my eyes in vexation. "Why did I agree to bring you along?"

"For dialogue's sake?" He responded uncertainly, again staring out the window. After an initial pause, waiting for the inevitable continuance, I sighed, relaxing back into my seat as the sweet, sweet sound of silence enveloped us. The quiet hum of the jet was soothing, the clouds wrapping around us in a soft sense of comfort; like we were floating in a sea of cotton. It was a nice, quiet lull in the nearly constant tension that had become my world. So, as with all good things, it didn't last very long. "Are we there yet?" Squirming, Gack again looked at me, boredom apparent by his expression. The knot in my shoulders that had been loosening tightened again, and I felt the muscle spasm once.

"Yeah, yeah." I grunted, glancing at the Wu detector. "Don't get your panties in a bunch."

Gack tittered at the phrase.

"Just…" I groped about for an idea to keep him distracted. "Watch out for the monks, okay?"

"Okay!" He gave me a sappy grin, radiating feel-good vibes. I shuddered. Utterly oblivious, the frighteningly cheery creature set about his task, whipping around to press against the glass, eager for something to occupy himself with.

_He's like a little kid, _I thought dismally. Then, …_maybe he absorbed my inner child_. Grimacing at the eerie notion, I again glanced down at the wildly flashing Wu detector. We were almost on top of the newest Shen Gong Wu, without a dragon in sight – and for good reason. The monks probably wouldn't be able to breathe this high up.

Still, it was a little worrying to not be able to see them.

Easing up on the controls, I drifted around the clouds, scanning the ground below. It was absolutely featureless, save for the glaring whiteness of the ice where the sun struck just right. However, a distinct glint soon caught my experienced eye. Eyeing it predatorily, I soon recognized the shimmering for what it was. "Ah-ha," at last I had caught sight of the precious item. "The Mask of Janus."

"Whatsit do?" Eagerly, Gack leaned forward, peering over the dashboard. Feeling pretty cocky for the moment, and thus, in a good mood, I decided to indulge his curiosity.

"It's similar to the Shroud of Shadows – allowing one to blend in with one's surroundings. Like…like a chameleon, but actually good." I slipped the craft into an easy dive, still vaguely wary of how simple this all was. To abate the feeling, I kept talking. "It's named after a god in Roman mythology: Janus the two faced – a classic deceiver. I guess that's why it's called that, with the whole 'deceiving' your enemy into thinking you aren't there or something." We bounced slightly upon impact, snow flying up in a puffy wave. "Put on this before you get out – you won't be able to breathe properly otherwise." Gruffly, I handed Gack the tiny breathing device I had made a few years back, a mere bauble in the boring hours of early morning, frowning at the pleased smirk he was making. "What?"

"Oh, just glad to see you're more considerate already," He slipped it on. "It's the good in you."

"_No_, I just don't want to have to haul a carcass back with me," I replied nastily, putting on my own mask. Glancing around once more, I turned thoughtfully to an only slightly unhappy Gack, deciding to play it safe. "Stay near the ship; warn me if anyone is coming."

"Okie-dokie!" He flashed a near invisible grin, thumbs up, all good spirits once more.

"Weirdo," I breathed quietly, opening the hatch. The outside air was freezing cold, a definite shift from the relatively warm air of the aircraft. Resolving to be quick about it, I hurtled over the lip of the cockpit, landing in a crouch in clean snow. This was…way too straightforward, effortless. It was so freaky.

Again eyeballing the austere landscape, I edged forward; ready to bolt at a moment's notice. Nothing moved, save for the clouds overhead. _Still, might as well get going while the going's good_.

Deciding to hasten my progress, I sprinted forward, leaning into the race. A peculiar feeling in the back of my neck immediately started up, the one you get when you know you're being watched. Prickly, electric tingles shot down my limbs, a forewarning, and by some instinct I had no idea I possessed, I looked skyward.

"_Shroud of Shadows_!"

The monks were suddenly revealed, along with their pet dragon, leaping down from the once-empty expanse of blue. After the initial hesitation of shock, I lunged forward, hoping to reach the Mask before they did—

"It is ours!" Omi shouted, reaching the Wu first, holding it over his bulbous head in victory. Before he could dodge out of the way, I sprang, wrenching the Wu out of his hand as I went past. "Stop, or face a—"

"Most humiliating defeat, gotcha." I cut him off, deciding discretion was the better part of valor, and discretion dictated I had better run away. I was in the process of doing so, though I belatedly realized it was entirely the wrong way. Spinning on my heel, I made to go straight through the foursome, but a sudden motion caught my eye.

Kimiko had reached into her pouch, opening her mouth to activate her special technique.

"_Arrow Sparrow_—" Before the Wudai weapon's name was even complete, I had flung myself into the snow, throwing my hands over my head in a paltry ruse of cover. I was reasonably certain I had shrieked, but wasn't about to waste time thinking about it.

The wicked birds of flame shot where my torso had been only moments before, curling back against the sky for another strike. Reminded suddenly of my decided lack of Jack-bots, I got to my knees and crouched, pitching aside at the last moment. The passing flames singed the soles of my boots. This time, however, the fire hit the snow, fizzling out anticlimactically.

Adrenaline racing, I scrambled to my knees, thankful for reflexes. "Ha, you mi—!" I yipped as a rather scary boomerang whipped toward me, glinting in the milky sunlight. Again dropping, I crawled through the snow, shouting incoherent remonstrations.

"_Star Hanabi_!"

I forced myself up, beginning to run again, a stitch starting in my side. _This isn't working; I need to hide- ah_. Without stopping, I slapped the Wu on. "_Mask of Janus_!" I froze where I was, panting.

"Well I'll be a egg-laying rooster – where'd he go?" Clay scratched his head, tipping back his tacky hat to scan the area. Similarly, Kimiko and Omi were baffled, the would-have-been-hilarious expressions of perplexity clearly voicing their sentiments.

Unfortunately, at least one monk was thinking.

Raimundo pointed to my feet, exclaiming his damnably good insight. "The tracks haven't moved; he's still right there."

Abruptly, four elemental attacks were on a beeline for my poor, fragile body. I flung myself away, rolling through the snow and tearing the useless mask off. "How are you even _breathing_ up here?" Glaring at them hatefully, as if it were some sin for them to be on the very same planet as myself, I reeled, regaining my dubious footing in the calf deep snow.

"Dragon of wind, duh," Kimiko gestured to the Brazilian, who waved cheerily.

I groaned. "This _so_ _isn't_ fair!" Whirling about, I sprinted toward the ship, shrieking for Gack to turn the blasted thing on.

My cohort clambered back into the aircraft, but paused, baffled. "How?" He asked, panicky, looking at all the buttons. Only midway there, I face palmed, bemoaning at my lack of forethought in telling him the simple operation.

"Son of a—_yerghah_!" I screeched as I was flung up by a powerful wave of wind, the Mask slipping from my flapping hands as I tried in desperation to slow my descent. Hitting the ground with a roll, I made some remarkable distance, tumbling through the biting ice particles. At last, stopping at an awkward angle upon my back, I found myself staring at my toes, dazed and utterly disoriented.

The rapid crunch of running feet on snow caught my attention, and I wearily looked back to where Clay was making his move for the Wu. I knew I wouldn't get there in time, but I still reeled to my feet, racing him for it. _Damn these boots! _I inwardly hissed, awkward in the snow.

But we weren't the only ones going for it.

Gack tackled the monk - merely setting him off his stride, to be honest - before flinging himself onto the Wu. Despite the valiant effort, Clay still barely managed to grab part of it, prompting the ancient item to begin glowing in the ominous manner that was far too familiar.

Staring at the object in his hand as if he were completely befuddled as to how exactly it had ended up there, Gack was on the verge of dropping it. "Challenge him!" I shouted, gesticulating frenetically. Glancing at my no-doubt comical gestures, then at the monk, Gack gave in to my directions.

"Uh, Clay, I challenge you to a Xiaolin Showdown, I guess." Frowning in mystification, Gack faced the equally bemused monk, offering a tiny shrug of apology.

_That…was a bad idea. _ Again, I face-palmed, bemoaning my lack of adequate help.

"Well…I reckon you'd better name your game, then, pardner." Bailey took it in stride, figuring it would be easy enough to defeat Gack as well.

_After all, he is _still_ a Jack. _I fumed silently, willing the cowboy to tip over in some sort of medical shock.

"Okay," Gack looked about hurriedly, noting the sparse landscape. Then, jovial, he announced his decision…which was very typical of him. "Clay, the game is a Xiaolin Snowball. First to score three hits wins. My Eye of Dashi-" (I hurriedly checked my pockets, snapping off obscenities when I found the Wu missing) "—against your Third Arm Sash."

"Alright then. Let's go—"

"—_Xiaolin Showdown!_"

The ground rumbled around us, monolithic towers of ice rising into the sky like the up reaching fingers of a buried god. Twining lengths of snow and buried stone formed ledges and arches, providing the combatants with shelter to hide behind. Questionable footholds and jutting protrusions lined the slick edges, some as sharp as scimitars, some as round as Omi's noggin.

It was like a magical kingdom of sugared fantasy, bright and shining against the azure sky. Really pretty – gorgeous, even.

_If I had a rocket right now…_I thought wickedly, eyeballing the monks who stood beside me on a removed ledge. They didn't even seem to be in the least concerned; Raimundo yawning and reading over Kimiko's shoulder as the girl checked her email on her usual techie junk, whilst Dojo curled into a contented ball on Omi's substantial cranium. Huffing, I was about ready to snark off to one of them, but the sound of the two embattled persons attracted my gaze.

My attention was once again focused on Gack, as he and Bailey shouted the ritual words and began.

Clay scored the first hit, striking while Gack was still awkwardly standing, muddled on how to approach this situation. I could practically see the moral battle within him; _was it good to fight against the side of good? Was it right? Was it all relative to perspective? _

_As if he thinks, _I thought dryly, foreseeing another humiliating defeat in the near future.

Falling straight down from his perch atop a high tower, the good half of my psyche reached out in hysteria, clinging on to an out thrusting precipice, hauling himself atop quickly. With surprising agility, the vested freak threw himself aside as another snowball was launched his way.

"Come on, go on the offense!" I shouted my own brand of encouragement, determined to at least attempt at something. "Peg him in the face! It's a huge target."

"But that's not very nice," Gack called back, curled behind a wall. "It'd be setting a bad example for your—"

"Win and I'll let you drive the god-damned transport!" I bribed, surprised at just how desperately I wanted to be on the winning team. "The whole way back!"

I knew I had hit gold.

Gack was almost instantly up and running, packing a wicked looking snowball and a serious attitude. I was proud of the little weirdo, honestly. He looked pretty damned resolute, and proved it by throwing the snowball hard enough to stagger the flabbergasted hick. Before Clay could regain his composure, Gack had pointed the Eye of Dashi at his feet, destroying the wide platform on which he stood. Shouting, the dragon of earth tumbled toward his native element, barely managing to stop the wild descent with his Third Arm Sash and a lucky ledge.

Clay pulled himself up, crawling behind a wall just as another snowball hit the perch he had previously occupied.

The assembled Xiaolin monks gasped, drawn out of their ennui state. I couldn't help the manic sniggering that nearly bowled me over. "Go Gack!" Enthusiastic, I cheered my cohort on, all thrilled delight.

"That's a stupid name," Kimiko hissed, trying to put a halt to my merriment, but I easily brushed it off. Her clownishly colored hair was particularly appalling today, and I decided on a random fancy to attack that in retaliation for the verbal jab.

"It's an annoying word and so is he. Descriptive," I glanced at her from the corner of my eye, "Like, your parents should have named you _Fugly_, and it would suit you better."

Dojo barely restrained the fiery girl, but my interest was again captured by the battle at hand as Gack scored another hit on Clay's shoulder. The cowboy looked a little off balance, not sure of exactly what had come over the goody little terror.

"I thought you were one of us," He dipped low, narrowly avoiding another tight ball of snow.

"I am; this is just a good ol' fashioned game, and there's nothing evil about it." Gack fell behind a wall of ice, readying his next bit of ammunition.

"Ten thousand years of darkness if the Heylin get all the Wu," Clay reasoned, stalking warily toward the hidden teenager. "You know that." His Third Arm Sash was holding a snowball, leaving his hands free to make more.

"It's only one Wu," Gack said airily, rising up with a shout and throwing the snowball as hard as he could. "And I _really_ wanna fly that thing."

It clipped Clay's hand as the dragon attempted to twist away, and in a flash of white, the Showdown was over.

After the initial sense of disorientation, I realized both Gack and myself were standing together, opposite the monks. Very slowly, it seemed, I came to the comprehension that he had prevailed over Bailey, and by association, _I _was on the winning side. A malicious smirk came over me as I scanned the Xiaolin Dragon's faces, thoroughly enjoying their astonished expressions. Victory was sweet, oh, _so_ sweet.

Grinning broadly, Gack displayed the won Wu to me, nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Did you see? Did you see? I won!" His excitement was contagious, though I was more focused on the objects cradled in his arms.

I regaled him with a warm smile.

"Ah, man, that was so fixed." Raimundo muttered, kicking at the greatly disturbed snow. "I mean, come on; Jack never wins anything." His argument, though true, still struck a chord with me, and though I was fiercely tempted to defend myself, I figured it was better to let it go, and simply bask in the moment.

"And that's why Gack is here," I patted my favorite good guy happily, avariciously eyeing the Wu. "Looks like our luck is beginning to change."

"Come on, you didn't even want him on your side!" The tiny Japanese girl, still stung after my comment, pointed out the fact accusingly. "You said it yourself, he's annoying. And he's good anyways, so the Wu should be ours."

Waving her off flippantly, I at last tore my rapacious eyes away from the magical items that so brightly shone in the wan sunlight. "But then who would show _me_ how to be _good_?" I crowed, ushering my companion toward the jet. "Now, sorry, but we must be going. No, do not weep, for we'll be back to whoop you again next time. It's like they say, distance makes the heart grow- eh?"

We had suddenly stopped moving.

I looked at the frozen youth; ever so slightly miffed that he would so interrupt my wallowing gloat. The happy-go-lucky reflection turned, familiar red eyes searching my face pleadingly. "Why'd you—" I began, one brow raised in consternation.

"You said I could fly it," He announced, standing up straighter, defiant. "I won and now I can fly it." Then, timorously, "Right?"

_Maybe I spoke too soon. _I blanched at the thought, struck with the sudden image of us going down in flames, Gack wildly swinging the controls. "Erm…" Warily, I glanced from his face to the shimmering jet, worried for my poor, poor invention. However, Gack's eyes never wavered for a moment, and the pout in his gaze was positively unbearable.

To aid the battle, he added, doggedly, "You promised."

"People say crazy things when under stress..." I tried to shove the picture of the earth hurtling at the nose of the ship out of my mind. "And it would take so long to teach you how to use the controls. I mean, hours and hours of going over the…."

His eyes were watering.

"…the…"

I opened and closed my mouth several times, trying to find a decent enough reason to set him off of this madcap course, but none came up.

"…_fine_." I rolled my eyes as he sprang up for another hug, fending off his overeager advance with one hand. "But if we die in a fiery hell storm of nightmarish pain, I'm blaming you." Sternly, I fixed him a serious look.

"Don't worry! I promise to not kill us." Bubbling over with glee, he scrambled up into the cockpit, myself reluctantly close behind. Settling himself in the coveted driver's seat, he eagerly looked over the mass of buttons. Before I could even properly settle into my seat, let alone get a seatbelt on, he inquired earnestly, "What's this one do?"

"For the love of Newton, don't press-!"

The jet did a back flip.

"It would be most prudent to leave now," Omi said quickly, clambering aboard a much-enlarged Dojo.

"Agreed," The other monks followed his lead, taking off from what was sure to be a most dangerous scene. As they left, they winced at my horrified screams as, yet again, curiosity got the better of the moron.

"Wee!"

---

Vehemently cursing the day I had ever heard of Shen Gong Wu, I again attempted to weld back on the landing gear that had so horrifically been torn off against the edge of a cliff. Sparks flew against the protective mask front, bouncing crazily on the cement floor as they struck it. Somewhere within the confines of the Lair, Gack was still 'sulking' after a fierce remonstration and an fervent oath that he would never fly again.

By sulking, I mean he was still on a high of pulling off a dangerous, sickening dive straight toward a surely traumatized village.

Snorting at the thought, I pulled the trigger on the torch hard, sending a brutal burst of whitish fire around the damaged metal. _Might as well get new rods for this, _I thought as the wheel fell off once again. "Son of a…." Muttering, I flicked it aside with one thickly gloved hand, sliding off the mask with the other. The light was immediate and harsh, drawing a wince from me as I achingly rose to my feet, muscles protesting furiously.

"It's a lost cause," I announced to a nearby Jack-bot, handing it the torch. "I'll be brooding over my desk if anyone needs – wait, scratch that. If anyone comes in here, beat them savagely." I picked up the half of a wheel spoke left. "With this. I want to hear some screams."

"Yessir." The robot saluted smartly, and I entertained the thought of actually allowing it to do so. For a moment, I was going to call it back, saying that last bit was a joke, but decided against it.

I wasn't in a very forgiving mood.

Collapsing in my chair, I blankly regarded an assortment of various unfinished projects, wondering which useless triviality would sufficiently absorb my vast amounts of free time.

"Oh, man, that was so awesome!" Gack pounced from seemingly nowhere, appearing to be made of elastic substance as he wobbled rowdily, arms wriggling about in imitation of flight…one could assume. "Do you remember when I hit that button? The one with the big 'X' on it? Vwoosh!" He threw himself upon the desk, ecstatic in reminiscing of the nightmarish flight. "It was like the fourth of July, but bigger. I didn't know live trees could burn so well."

"Did it ever strike you that those rockets just _might_ have been expensive?" I drawled acerbically, leaning away from the apparent adrenaline junkie.

"Huh? Ah, well, that's okay. What do you need them for, anyhow?" He waved off the question, swinging his legs over the edge and fiddling with a screwdriver. "Hey, you wanna take out the—?"

"No," I cut him off, snatching the tool from his hands. "Definitely no."

"Bu—"

"No, never again, no way." Wagging a stern finger, I somberly regarded his puerile expression. "Don't even ask about it."

"Wh—"

"What part of the word '_no'_ don't you understand? Are you bound and determined to destroy everything I have ever made? Or do you just enjoy ruining lives?" Aggravated by the double, I rose up and stalked away, determined to ignore him whatever the price. However, I was disappointed in even that aim as he trudged after, dejected as a kicked puppy. No matter to where I fled or what I made a scathing, cruel comment about, he was right there, like a shadow. At last, fed up with the parade, I faced my opposite, slouching against a generator.

"_What _do you _want_ from me?" Rubbing at the site of a rapidly approaching migraine, I looked at him from under my goggles, giving up the ruse of evasion. Gack looked positively desolate, lower lip quivering.

"I just wanna help," He replied, quiet in the face of my animosity. "And…I'm sorry that I broke your…flying thingy. I didn't mean to." Scuffling the ground with one foot, he glanced up, hopeful, to see how his apology was received.

Before I could say the callous statement that burned on my tongue, I paused, taking a deep breath and letting my shoulders relax and hand fall away from my head. Begrudgingly, "It's alright; it's all replaceable. Besides, at least it wasn't completely blown up this time around." Holding out my hands in an expression of surrender, I stood up straight, relenting in giving him a little pat on the top of the head. "If you really want to help, I suppose you could do some of the repairs. Err…" Struck again with violent images, I changed my tact, eyeballing the greatly brightened double, "at least hand me some of the tools."

"Whoopee!"

"…Don't ever say 'whoopee' again."

---

"No, no; the open end quarter inch wrench, not the box-end." I handed back the (yet again) wrong implement, cramped in the tiny space on the inside of the hollowed front. My feet were propped up on the nearly shattered remains of the burner, which had been shoved, somehow, straight into the blades of the compressor. "This is the last time I use afterburning low-bypass turbofans." I muttered darkly, giving the equipment a harsh glower.

"Here you go," Gack, oblivious, cheerily slapped another wrench into my hands, and I was suddenly very certain he had no idea what he was doing.

"How did you even manage to break any of this?" Squinting at the proffered item, I tried to determine its origin, and sighed when I realized it was again wrong. "This is an adjustable spanner." Giving in to fate, I slid my upper body over the gap of plating, and slipped out, hanging by my knees.

"A what now?" He watched attentively as I hung, bat like, over the assorted wrenches, muttering.

"Err, a crescent wrench, as it is better known." I dug through the toolbox, which was woefully disorganized, giving a triumphant 'ah-ha!' when I discovered my objective lying at the bottom. "And here we are, the fabled open end quarter inch." Once more venturing into the breach, I withdrew into my workspace, flicking back on my tiny flashlight.

For a time, I worked in comparative silence, save the clatter of useless bits that I unceremoniously shoved out of the bottom. Gack, meanwhile, stacked the wrenches and other assorted utensils up in a strange tower, handing me only completely random ones that would not stand. It was hardly conductive, but if it kept him entertained….

But good things never last for long.

"What are you doing up here?" Out of the blue, the question echoed in the itty-bitty space, half of Gack visible as he hauled himself up for a look.

I shrieked in surprise, kicking out and sending my brand-new inlet deep into the still empty nozzle. Once I realized it was not some horror from beyond the darkness come to devour me, I calmed down enough to curse violently. "Attempting to fix the damage you've done," I snapped at his cringing form, rubbing my head where it had clunked onto the ceiling. Flicking my irritated gaze over to his, ready to lay in to him, I paused at the wounded face he had made, recoiling from my harsh tone. Inexplicably, upon seeing the woeful expression, I felt remorseful, and diffidently opened my mouth to apologize—

But was interrupted by grating, sudden beeping. "Move," I commanded immediately, secretly relieved I wouldn't have to give in to my vindictive conscience, slithering out of the half-emptied jet. Gack jumped out of the way, trailing inquiringly after as I seized the Wu-detector. "Sweet, another one has just shown up." Two Wu, with only a day apart; a rare occurrence, though it had happened before. "We'll just fire up the…."

I gave the jet a disparaging look, and quickly abandoned any thought of piloting it in its current condition. "Looks like it's time to improvise."

Gack again tagged along, thankfully silent.

One of my older models, still in mostly good shape, would do nicely enough. It had been a while since I had fixed them up, but as long as it didn't randomly combust….

"I'll be right back," Standing on the wing of an old, clunky aircraft, I again wagged a finger at Gack, "so don't go destroying the place while I'm gone, okay?"

"But why can't I come?" Wailing, the vested annoyance clutched my pants leg, yanking down hard. I hurriedly clawed at my belt, trying to keep my jeans on. But the little weirdo kept pulling, doing all in his power to stop me from leaving.

Finally shaking off his clinging hands, I hastily moved out of range, blushing furiously. "Because I—"

"I won't even _ask_ fly this time, I promise!" Seeing how that argument wouldn't work, he moved to his next plea. "I won the last one, didn't I? Doesn't that entitle me to coming too?" He whimpered abruptly, hands flying up in a pleading gesture. "I promise to be good, really. I'll stay in the ship, I swear."

"You only decided to fight after I bribed you, and that hardly makes you a reliable ally." Despite the statement, I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. Well…he _did _win before…and it had been awfully nice to actually be on the triumphant side. Besides, if he didn't fly, how bad could it be?

"Alright, you can tag along," I relented, offering my hand to get him up. Squeaking in glee, Gack scuttled up the slick wing, a giant grin plastered on his face. However, when his upper body made the warning 'crush-you-with-love' motion, I hurriedly shoved him into the cockpit, ignoring his surprised shout. "None of that now, thank you. Buckle up."

"Aww, concerned with safety. See! It's working!" He wriggled to the passenger seat, buckling up as per orders. "You're slowly but surely converting to the side of good."

I rolled my eyes, not wanting to even go into the subject of concern or goodness. "_No_, I just…don't want a ticket." Finishing lamely, I made a vague gesture, checking the fuel levels. Not exactly full, but it'd do for the moment.

"That doesn't make sense," Gack frowned, trying to puzzle it out.

"It doesn't have to," I took hold of the controls, starting up the 'craft, and flashed him a wicked smile. "I'm an evil genius."

---

_For how small she is, Kimiko is surprisingly strong_.

The relatively tiny girl had, for what seemed like the umpteenth time, bodily flung me into the river. As soon as I had surfaced, I hurriedly paddled to the opposite bank, crawling ashore with a hacking cough. "Are you _still_ grouchy about the 'Fugly' comment?" I asked her sourly, woozily rising up again as I tried to flick my hair in some semblance of order. It flipped back and smacked over my goggles, sending another wave of water down my face.

Taking a moment to glance around, I again sought the Wu we were all gathered for. It was a pretty bare scene; a few trees, a narrow, trickling waterfall, and a large pile of boulders from some long ago slide were all that was notable. In such a place, you'd think it would be ridiculously easy to detect an ancient and potent artifact of unspeakable power, wouldn't you?

_Stupid dragon and his stupid hiding places._

But, ever to business, I looked back to Kimiko, wary of having my eyes off of the sneaky girl for more than a few moments.

She giggled in a decidedly school-girlish manner, striking what was meant to be an innocuous pose. "Ah, gee, no, Jack. Why would I be mad about that? You obviously have no taste in women, seeming as you're so very…" tittering, she fixed me with a sly, knowing smile, going straight for the kill. "Well, you know." Her tone was sweet, but the words were far from sugar and honey. I knew _exactly_ what she meant.

It felt like my cheeks had caught on fire.

"Will everyone just _stop_ questioning my sexuality?" The blush only intensified as I heard Raimundo snicker, and Omi's awkward questions as to what exactly the lone female monk had meant.

"Who's questioning?" The girl guffawed; flicking her newly-dyed blonde locks over one shoulder. "It's obvious enough with the way you hang all over Chase."

For a moment, all I could do was stutter (a nervous tic from childhood), eye twitching as I poorly expressed my incalculable rage. That seemed to only make the situation worse, as the monks drew their own conclusions from the lack of response. Fed up with my own embarrassment, I, very maturely, turned to the one logical method of dealing with such situations: I called her names. "Grow up, Oompa Loompa."

"Like you've got room to talk, you mime from hell!" Her hands balled into fists at her sides, back arching smoothly in her anger.

"What? I can't hear you from so far down there." I placed one hand around an ear, tipping forward as if trying very hard to listen. "And I think I'm getting '_PMS bitching_' interference."

"Now, Spicer, that's no way to talk to a lady," Clay said quickly, putting up both hands to stop us. "Maybe we all just need to take a step back, now, and—"

But Kimiko was already on the attack, and I found myself rolling across the ground, an angry girl scratching at my face. I managed to jerk hard, sending the girl off of my chest. By the time I got onto my knees, she was already on her feet, hands incased in flame. "I'll show _you _PMS," She hissed, cocking back an arm for the first strike.

"Hey, now, save it for the Showdown." That _angel_ of an American had gotten across the river, coming between us. "I'm all for rustlin' up Spicer, but we got a Wu to find. So just cool your heels there, Kimiko, and let's get this over with."

With a final death glare, she extinguished the flames, nonchalantly tossing her unnatural hair over a shoulder. "It's not worth it anyhow."

"Hey—" I began, flushed, surging up with an indignant gesture.

"Ah, Jackie; still having to be saved from nasty little girls?" the purr emitted from the left, and, dreading what was surely there, I looked.

"Wuya," I said by way of greeting, hostility tingeing the name with the aura of a disease. "You're looking particularly wrinkled today." We stared daggers at each other for a moment, her strange eyes filled with amusement as she sneered at my disheveled state. I was first to look away.

Laughing under her breath, the Heylin witch undulated from her reclining pose, serpentine in her movements, slinking to stand in the open. "Shouldn't you be crying to your mommy by now?" She retorted, placing one slender hand on her curvaceous hips.

I sneered; was that the best she could do? "I didn't know they let dogs out without their leashes." Then, spiteful at being reminded of a particularly stinging fact, "I thought Chase was all about cats."

She laughed, placing lithe fingertips against her lips to cover the bared fangs. "You're not in exactly a position to know _anything_ about Chase Young, Jackie. Everyone knows he despises you, worthless little coward that you are."

I tried to hide how much that last insult had stung. But, I betrayed myself, face warming with a blush, hands clenching tight. I knew it was obvious; how could I hide it? But still, it was humiliating to have my fault with Chase so blatantly pointed out, right to my face. Whilst attempting to form a scathing retort, I found myself interrupted.

"She's got ya there, pardner" Bailey piped up, filling the void of peanut gallery. "He hates you more than a peg-legged racehorse on bumpy trails."

"Shut up, hick," I turned on him, looking for an excuse to get out of Wuya's firing range. The pithy adage was pathetic, honestly, but it still struck true to the heart of the matter. So, put on the defensive, I tried a misleading tactic. "He hates everyone, anyways."

It was doomed to fail.

"But he loathes _you_ most of all," Kimiko snorted, folding her arms. _Smug little bi—_

"If I had your fashion sense, I wouldn't draw attention to myself, blondie." Responding flatly to the statement, I felt my shoulders rise defensively, despite my best effort to appear in charge. "You look like a cheap something you'd find in a back street of Detroit, if you know what I mean." Her affronted screech was well worth whatever pain she was going to dish out in a moment.

"If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all."

In disbelief, we all turned to where Gack was sitting under the clunky aircraft, perfectly at ease. At the incredulous looks he was being given, he sank somewhat lower, as if just realizing he had spoken. "Erm…"

"Wonderful; there are two of you again." Wuya rolled her eyes, disdain clear in her tone. "As if the world weren't already full of morons."

"Why don't you sho—" a deafening rumble cut off my jibe, followed swiftly by earth-shaking crashes as the rock pile slide from its former location, boulders crushing the sparse vegetation. I blinked rapidly, forgetting myself as I gaped at the spectacle, not paying any attention at my one-time ally. A foolish move, had she not been similarly distracted.

"Found it!" Omi grinned broadly from his perch atop the shifted rock pile, a pair of golden gloves in his hands. Black lightening motifs criss-crossed over its front, forming an abstract pattern that dazzled the eyes. "The Lightning Hands are now ours, my friends."

Trust the puffball to be the only one on task.

Wuya and I exchanged a glance of understanding. It would be hopeless with one Heylin, but together, we had a shot. At once, we nodded, and struck while they were diverted from keeping a watch on us.

"Jack-bots, attack!" I commanded, already sprinting past a very surprised pair of Xiaolin dragons. Across the expanse of babbling water, green flame roared to life, blocking Raimundo from coming to the aid of his companions…for the moment, anyhow.

Omi was trying to stuff his tiny hands into the Shen Gong Wu, caught unawares as both Wuya and myself reached him. As soon as the Lightning Hands left his grasp, the brief partnership was over, leaving the witch and myself fighting like two mongrels over a scrap of meat, the monk caught between us.

"Let go, you stupid, foolish boy!"

"Crazy – _umph_ – old hag!" I yanked as hard as I could, kicking out as we rolled down the slope of rocks. Bruises were already forming on my body, cuts springing open in bright slashes of color, but I could hardly stop the plummet to worry about them.

"Ignorant child," Wuya scratched at my face, scoring a shallow mark across one cheek. Yelping, I lurched away, only to hit the unrelenting ground first, the other two landing on top of me a heartbeat later.

"Hey!" I vainly tried to grab hold of the Lightning Hands, shoving at a dazed Omi.

As the nearly unconscious dragon impeded me, it left Wuya free to rise to her feet, sliding the rather heavy looking gloves onto her own hands. Her evil laugh was positively grating, but she pulled it off rather well, pointing her metal-encased fingers at my head. "I guess this is good-bye, my boy."

Before I even had a chance to scream, Wuya was knocked off her feet, landing on the ground awkwardly. In disbelief, she sputtered at the most wonderful person I had ever met (for the moment).

"Oh, my goodness, I'm so sorry!" Gack apologized hastily, remorse evident by his expression. "I didn't think I'd actually knock you over."

While the witch still tried to grapple with the fact she had been caught unawares by such a nimrod, I managed to get a currently-struggling Omi off, kicking at her torso. "Quit with the Mother Goose routine and get the Wu!"

"Right, right," Gack grabbed Wuya's hands, pulling hard. The Heylin hag snapped out of her stupor, dragging him back.

"Let go, you little abomination!"

"Well now, that's not very nice."

Seeing them thus embattled, and figuring I could do nothing to aid the attempt, I whirled to the monks, intent on keeping them from interfering. Raimundo was making his move, diving straight at the struggling mass of redhead. I went for him first, throwing the most abundant thing I had on hand.

The rather heavy stone clonked him right in the temple, sending the dragon of wind into the ground. He skidded, bouncing high twice, before lying quite still. Immediately, I felt something akin to panic nearly choke off my throat. I didn't _like _the guy, but I didn't want to kill him!

I hadn't really expected that to work.

Beside me, Omi gasped, crying out the name of his friend. Almost shocked, I turned to face him, while he was distracted, and punted him hard, hoping he would fly much like a soccer ball. Amusingly, he did. I looked back to Pedrosa, and was utterly relieved when he groaned in misery, hands twitching feebly.

It was a short-lived sensation.

"Spicer, you low down snake in the grass!" Clay came at my with both arms out, rage clear in his roar. I scrambled back, ducking under the outstretched limbs to dive behind a rock. Looking back, it wasn't the wisest of moves.

The boulder trembled, lifting of its own accord into the air. I shrieked and dove aside, clipped by the barest of margins by its massive bulk as it slammed down where I had just been. "Holy hell!" I tripped all over myself in a klutzy tumble, narrowly dodging the next blow.

"_Arrow Sparrow - fire_!" I yelped in pain as the little birds detonated at my feet, sending me on a hopeless flight to the top of the rock pile.

Thus surrounded with potential weapons, I panicked.

I shoved off with one hand, and slid down the other side in a clattering jumble of stone and dust; I wasn't about to hang around at the top like a sitting goose. As I made my impromptu escape, the mound swelled upward, bolstered by the monk's will. Unable to longer control the descent, I merely attempted to slow it, tweaking my left ankle and wrists in the process. Jarringly striking the very bottom on a shoulder, I tottered to my feet, staggering back. Pain immediately flared to crippling life, and I reeled sideways, dizzy.

What appeared to be a mace made entirely of ice smashed the ground before my feet.

"You killed Raimundo!" Omi screeched, swinging his Wudai weapon again.

I fell back, dancing about to avoid the wicked instrument of suffering. "No! No – eek! – he's just – hey! For the love of- _He's just knocked out_!" Tripping over my own feet, I fell to the ground before the tiny terror; cowering as the mace was lifted high, ready to cave in my cranium. By the wonderful, merciful will of some god, Omi paused, uncertain.

"…Only knocked out?" Suspicious, he didn't lower the transformed Shimo staff, but his expression slowly softened. I nodded vehemently, too afraid to try scooting back.

"Yeah, knocked out." While it seemed like my tail was saved, I flicked my eyes up, willing for someone to come to my aid.

In the idiosyncratic, dreadful way life so often treats me, I was bitterly disappointed in that regard. Kimiko and Bailey appeared over the crest of the pile, grim in appearance, Wudai weapons at their sides. I gulped, reading all-too-well their intent by the ominous expressions written across their faces.

Luckily, the world decided to dissolve in that moment.

The entire area was turned topsy-turvy, the surrounding earth broken into separate cylinders of dirt and rock, suspended in the air. Wildly, forgetting the fundamentals of the battle, I looked around, certain I had been slain and this was some strange limbo. But no; the monks stood together on a separate platform, tending to a bemused, foolishly grinning Raimundo. Still, Kimiko tossed a look that easily could have sent me screaming for the hills had I not been on a floating island above nothingness.

"_Gong Yi Tampai_!"

I watched Gack dip aside as Wuya struck out with her fist, thus gaining the advantage as she jumped over the void, to the next platform. _A race, then. _Disheartened, I watched them go along, Wuya gaining a steady lead. She'd always been good a races, much to my chagrin.

However, I soon realized my other half was catching up.

Sitting up from my nearly fetal position, I felt a silly grin start up. Man, he was _good_ at Showdowns! Luckier than he had any right to be, honestly, given the previous track record.

I was about to shout out approval, but decided against it, since the monks were distracted; I really didn't want to remind them of my existence yet. Hey, sometimes prudence is a good idea.

…There's really nowhere to flee to when you're standing over a void.

So, silently encouraging, I watched as Gack pulled ahead, much to the witch's mortification. The end was fast approaching, and….

"Watch out!" I suddenly shouted, wincing at the sudden motion of my wrist. _ Gah, I hope that's not fractured. _ Cradling the limb to my chest, I lurched upward, in horror, as Wuya lashed out with her Wu, the Thorn of Thunderbolt.

Gack dropped to the ground, the attack passing harmlessly over his head.

Meanwhile, Wuya reached the next platform, and stretched out for the Lightning Hands, manically 'laughing'. It sounded awful, really. She has no class.

"_Eye of Dashi_!"

In a flash, Wuya fell through, screaming out at the unexpectedly underhanded technique. Gack jumped across the divide, grabbing hold of the twin Wu just as they toppled toward the abyss.

The world wobbled once more, and we again stood across from our enemies – plus one miffed Heylin witch.

Breathless, Gack cradled the prizes to his chest, grinning. "Wow, did you see — what's with all the gloomy faces?" He blinked rapidly, elation fast fading, glancing between the two sides.

I nervously eyed the assorted dragons, inwardly cringing. Okay, so I hadn't actually meant to hit Pedrosa quite like that. Just to peg him, to distract him. But I could hardly admit it without seriously bringing my evilness into question – especially with Wuya there. I'd never have lived it down. Thus, I kept silent, trying to keep guilt from my expression as I regarded the still-dazed dragon of wind. The sneer was difficult to keep in place when the purple bruise was revealed.

In all honesty, I wanted to ask how he was, apologize, even; but I could hardly do that. Instead I gave a sarcastic snort, and peevishly growled, "What, he's alive, isn't he?"

Their expressions had me mentally kicking myself.

There was an awkward, hostile silence, dragging on for what seemed forever. Their eyes were so…accusing. I flinched slightly, looking away from those icy stares. To end it all, I grabbed Gack's arm, hauling him back. Gruffly, I told him, "It's nothing."

"See you at the next Showdown, Jack." The Tohomiko girl's voice was not unlike a snake hiss; cold, calculating, and utterly petrifying.

I tried to hide the shudder as the monks departed overhead.

_My life sucks._

_---_


	4. Real Men Don't Hug

**Disclaimer**: _I, in no way, shape, or form own Xiaolin Showdown or the characters it contains. All are the intellectual property of Christy Hui and Cartoonnetwork/WB. I do not make any profit off of this story, and write it only for enjoyment and to pass the time. However, I do claim ownership to the writing itself, and hope that those who read this can respect that as well._

**Warning(s)**: _Some foul language is used, and there are some light jokes toward Jack's dubious sexuality. These are teenagers, people_. **MAY CONTAIN SOME SPOILERS FOR SEASONS 1-3. **_So, if that's going to shatter your entire world, you might want to skip this_.

_(See Chapter One for further information)_

**Additional Notes**: _I'd like to thank those who took time to fill my day with unutterable glee: Chickens, Tietum, Daxo, White-Oreo, LilMis12, and Halfhuman123 for the reviews. I would hug you, but I'm afraid there's a glass panel in the way._

_Sooooo_…tired…_agh_Why do you mock me, high school? Mock me with your reports and your differential equations?

This took a very long time. Several things did play a part – such as school and _crazy_ things that I still do not understand the relevance _of_ but apparently were important regardless, strangely enough – but mostly, procrastination and/or other projects. Sorry for the delay on this often god-awful story XD. I'll try to be more consistent in the updates.

This is a silly chapter, tossed in at whimsy to break the monotony. So it's rather brief – again, apologies. Sorry this took so long to get up as well; I was revamping quite a bit of the plot to make it legible and, uh, more plot-like.

Only three chapters left, I think. Oh _noes_.

Enjoy.

---

_As always, critique is always warmly welcomed. Don't worry – I'm not going to shatter into a million pieces with one little comment or anything._

_---_

**Part Four:**

**Real Men Don't Hug**

My foul mood didn't last long. 

The parents were out again; party hopping, no doubt. Being as it was such, and since there was a reason to celebrate, we commandeered the kitchen. The cooks did not seem very optimistic, but soon acquiesced to abandoning their posts. Long experience had taught them to not mess with a determined boy genius…or they might have just decided it wasn't worth the effort.

Regardless, I decided it would be a fun adventure to try my hand at cooking.

…Not one of my better ideas.

"Do I put the shells in too?" In bafflement, I held the cookbook in one hand, the said chicken produce in the other, glancing between the two. "I mean, it really doesn't specify. And it does say egg whites."

"Do it!" Gack was pulled up on a chair, leaning on the counter as he liberally doused the batter with chocolate chips. Flour was spread all over his vest, stark against the blue. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Shrugging, I flipped the carton over, all the assorted eggs falling into the mixing bowl. Hey, the more the merrier. "Pfft, I don't think we really need staff for this. It's so easy, an idiot could do it."

Previous attempts at cooking lay like broken soldiers all about the counters, in various states of readiness - the shattered shells of pasta, forgotten in the bottom of the sink where we had tried to soak them; the husks of various soups, aluminum edges glinting mournfully against the sterile white of the kitchen. Utensils, gory with the remains of the combatants, formed memorials to failed experiments, unknown substances coating their shiny forms. It was a graveyard of cooking horrors, a haunting, desolate abyss straight from a chef's nightmare.

I was pretty proud of it.

A few hours later, however, we realized we really couldn't cook worth a damn.

Thus, we crashed before the television, various sorts of take-out scattered around the room. An attempt was made to clean up, but all it seemed to do was make the problem worse, so we had given up within the first fifteen minutes.

As it turns out, Gack is very good at racing games.

"Why, how surprising, _another_ high score." He made the roundabout gloat, idly flicking the joystick to superimpose his name over my previous score. I flicked out my tongue playfully, and darted forward, resetting the game.

I snickered at his slack-jawed expression. "Oh, would ya look at that? Must've been a power surge." _I'm such a fair player_. Almost smugly, I turned to revel in the moment of his loss. I had expected him to be angry – at least a little miffed – but he utterly surprised me by guffawing, and soon after curling into a ball, giggling. Immediately, warnings were fired off in my mind as I tried to reason out the strange behavior. Unfortunately, I've never been good a reading people; I deigned to question him on the matter. "Why are you laughing?" I was certain that he was going to mock me about something. That's the only reason anyone ever laughed around me. Ready for a put-down, I sat up straighter, frowning.

Catching my expression, his mirth stalled and died. He tilted his head inquiringly, baffled. "I just…found that funny."

"…Oh. Okay." I resettled into the couch, ambiguous about the response. It was a strange change of pace, in all honesty; too used to being consistently ridiculed, I was still tensed for whatever obscure punch line he had devised. There was an awkward pause.

"You're very…_defensive_," Observing vaguely, Gack began to set up the next round, going through the options with the air of an expert. "Cynical, almost. I mean…think about earlier. Absolutely _everything _out of your mouthwas an insult. Do you want to talk about it?"

What, was he a shrink now, too?

"I'm not defensive." I didn't entirely miss the irony of the statement, but didn't try to acknowledge it, hoping Gack wouldn't either. Unfortunately, he did.

"You just did it again." Pausing in his options phase, he turned to face me.

I squirmed, uncomfortable with being so directly put on the spot. "Where's your PHD, doctor Phil? I'd really like to see something along the lines of certification." Snorting, I hunched my shoulders, slouching over the controller.

"I'm just saying—" He began again, undeterred.

"It's just banter; it's what I do. The monks say exactly the same things." I plastered a trademark confident smile. "Throws everybody off, right? A little here, a little there, and bam, we've got an outlet for stress or whatever." The ruse was pitiable, really. Frankly, I'm a sarcastic, cold, calculating, cruel, and otherwise _evil _person. So what? To each their own and all that rot. It's not like I was _hurting_ anyone—

Reminded of my earlier guilt, I flinched. _Okay, so_, _maybe not _that_ cold-hearted_…_but definitely evil._

He seemed uncertain, caught between assurance and suspicion. "Are you going to start or what?" I clicked the start button impatiently.

Gack smiled broadly, put at ease by my fallacious reassurance. "Prepare to be erased off the board."

I snickered. "You wish."

---

I was off the board.

"What are you _on_?" Incredulous, I watched his score climb steadily, the numbers ascending ever upward. Every game we had tried, he won, hands down. There were a few where I got damned close, sure; but he was just _good. _"Really, 'cause I want some."

The little abomination cackled in a poor imitation of my evil laugh (okay, it was _pretty_ good - for an amateur), cradling the game controller like a baby. "Chalk up another one in the name of Gack! Fear my amazingly skilled…skills of…skillfulness." Trailing off disappointingly, the elation of winning fizzled, leaving him pondering over his little rant.

I sniggered at his poor attempt at a gloat. "You're as bad as the puffball."

"You are merely jealous of my angry competence in the ancient and fantabulous art of slang usage." He did the impression rather well; I found myself honestly laughing. Pleased, Gack exited the blue screen, assuming that wicked look again. "Want to go for another round?"

"Pah, I'm not risking my last little score. It's my baby, you know." Casually, I leaned back to look at the clock, and did a double take. "I think I lost a few hours back there. Marvelous. I'm never going to finish that stupid Doom-bot."

"If you think it's stupid, why do it?" Very reasonably, Gack asked, turning off the game.

It took a few moments for my sleep-deprived mind to catch up to what he was saying, a few neurons firing late. It was sound logic; I didn't care for this project, in all honesty. It was too straightforward, too simplistic. I liked being challenged in such technological aims; to be forced to finesse, to push the boundaries of the common mold. No, I didn't want to work on it any longer than I had to. But it had to be done; what else could I do with such parts?

I didn't say as much, instead scoffing at the question. "To prove I can," After all, how else could I show everyone what I was good at? Without continuous new, destructive robots, nobody would care anymore. No, I was trapped in an incessant loop; though dull and tedious it had become. Uncomfortable with the thought, I again redirected. "Besides, what else can I fill the spaces between Wu hunting with? Going to the community _mall_?" I sneered at the notion; never would I go to such a place, _ever_.

"Well…" He trailed off, realizing the futility, or maybe forgetting what he was talking about. "I guess."

There was a long pause.

Frowning up at the ceiling, something crossed my mind. It was strange and morbid and twisted, but hey, what _wasn't _these days? "You know what?"

"What?" Gack asked, uncrossing his legs.

"If I had a rabbit, and I cut off its foot," I said very slowly, carefully thinking out the wording. "I think you would be that foot." Pleased with my own brand of a compliment, I looked back down at him, gauging his reaction.

He looked somewhat horrified, to be honest.

"That's terrible," He tried to figure out if it was an insult or praise, uncertainly eyeing me. "Uh… thanks, I think."

"No problem," I beamed, sliding back off the couch. "Well, I'm off. G'night and all that."

"Good night," He called back after me, voice tilting into perplexity. He was probably terribly confused on the whole comment – and I decided to let him be. Couldn't let the little twerp think I was getting soft; a body can only take so many organ-crushing hugs before it breaks down, after all.

---

Utterly warm and comfortable, I snuggled right up against my pillow, curling into a tighter ball beneath the lovely weight of a comforter. It was blissfully dim, though morning sunlight filtered through between the slats of my blinds, seeking to wake all it touched. For a time, I was able to ignore it completely, until right around the time it struck in a straight line for my closed eyelids. In response, I groaned and rolled over, snorting, and pushed against the malleable, cushiony expanse of my wall, blocking out the light with a nuzzle.

_Mmm_…_Soft wall_. It took a few moments, but eventually the thought cut itself through a mental fog.

…_Soft_?

I flicked my eyes open a heartbeat later, bemused as I took in a color scheme that was definitely not my personal choice. It took but a moment for the cogs in my head to churn, and I realized this _thing _I was pressed againstwas breathing.

_Warm_._ Breathing_. _ Bright_.

I screeched and flung myself off the bed, shrieking out a word that sounded suspiciously like the subject's name, hitting the ground in a tumble of blankets and pillows. "_What_ the _hell_ do you _think you're doing_!?" I would have scrambled to my feet in an indignant pose, but in all honesty, you can't be very authoritative wearing just your boxers – especially when you're as skinny as I am. Still, I tried with that imposing stare, half covered in blankets, my hair flopping in every which direction.

I'm _so_ sure I looked badass. Really.

"Hello," My doppelganger yawned, blinking sleepily. After a suitably relaxed stretch, he seemed to notice the fierce glower coming from the vicinity of the floor, and sat up, genuinely puzzled. "Something wrong?"

I rolled my eyes sardonically, running my fingers through my hair to place it back in its customary position. "Oh, no, of course not. 'Cause, you know, I wake up in my skivvies to _dudes_ in my bed _every day_." I snorted sarcastically, finishing with my hair as I trawled about for my goggles. Once they were found, they were promptly placed on my head with a rakish snap. _Much better, _I inwardly said, looking up at a rather questionable expression upon a familiar-yet-not face.

"_Really_?" I couldn't quite decide if he was intrigued or disgusted by the notion.

Drawing the blankets tight around me, I shuddered slightly. _Creepy moment. Very, **very** creepy moment. _Out loud, however, I snarked, "Sarcasm is a foreign language to you, isn't it?" and tottered to my feet, wincing as my spine crackled in protest. "Out you go. Jack needs clothes."

Strangely enough, he did a 'thumbs up' gesticulation, "Okie dokie," and he slapped his hands over his eyes, humming some asinine tune. On all counts, he didn't seem very gung-ho to exit the premises, despite the cheerful compliance of moments earlier.

I waited for a few heartbeats longer, wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets, staring blankly. He wasn't…he couldn't be so keen to be in the room whilst I changed…right? I mean, that's just…too _weird_. I shifted apprehensively. "Are you not going?" Drawling acerbically to cover the discomfiture of the situation, I jerked my head at the door, though he wouldn't see the motion.

He shook his head, grinning. "Well, I just thought that—"

"_OUT_!" I roared, pleased when he jumped straight up like an electrocuted kitten, scrambling for the door. It slammed hard behind him, quivering in its frame at the force exerted upon it.

After a long hesitation, satisfying myself that he would not be bursting back in, I let the blankets drop and rooted around my dresser, frowning at its sparse variety. "Laundry. Remember to do laundry." Muttering, I tapped my head, hoping that it would somehow pound the information required into my brain.

I tossed on a regular t-shirt, some of my usual jeans and socks, calling it good enough. After all, there was really no one to impress with my stunning sense of fashion.

Bolstering my courage, I reopened the door, quietly, and glanced up and down the hall. There was no sign of Gack. Thankful for the break, I slipped out, nearly tiptoeing down the stairs, heading for the kitchen. Some good, underpaid soul had already cleaned up our disaster from last night, leaving a sparklingly white arena to destroy.

However, since I figured the staff was on the verge of mutiny, I decided to take the easiest route, fishing out cereal and other essential ingredients for a bowl of aforementioned breakfast delight.

It was eerily quiet, but I paid it little mind, staring at the remarkably dim-witted, colorful puzzle on the back of the box. Honestly, it looked like a garish rainbow had vomited on it, then smacked it with an ugly stick. Did they really think that was entertaining? Oh, yeah, for like 1.5 seconds the color dazzled the retinas, shooting rays of _stupid_ into the very core of your brain. But after that, all you were left with was a pained set of eyes and a few less active brain cells.

Oh boy, what _fun_.

Despite myself, I went ahead and finished the puzzle, and even did the so-called 'cryptogram' that a baboon fetus would have no trouble with (It said, 'eat right, stay bright.' Insert derisive snort _here_. Whoever writes that crap really should be dragged naked through a field of cactuses, then dunked in a tub of citrus juice. Honestly.), and huffily ate the cereal. As they say, don't judge a book by its cover.

Someone giggled right in my ear. "Oh, how cute," The titter that followed scared me right to the center of the table, spoon raised like some sort of shoddy metallic shield. "It rhymes."

After saying a Very, Awfully Bad Word, I sidled off the table, glaring daggers at Gack's smirk. "You so did that on purpose."

"Hmm," With an uncommitted grunt, he slid into my seat, fascinated by the slue of mismatched colors. "Ooo, swirly." He traced a finger around the rim of one, engrossed by the strange display of the pseudo-abstract designs. A sappy smile stretched across his features, childlike, almost, and he took a stab at the puzzle, following the path with his eyes.

I caught myself before saying something cruel, slouching over the table. It was just too easy a target, like tripping someone with a broken ankle or something. "So, any reason as to why you were snuggled up to me in the bed?" I groused, petulantly flicking the spoon to accent the question.

"As I recall, you snuggled up to _me_," he admonished, giggling. Still enraptured by the puzzle, he continued following it, not glancing up as he continued. "And I was just lonely, I guess. You didn't seem to mind last night."

Aghast at the notion that he had seen me when I was sleeping, I ducked my head low, embarrassed. "Is this going to be a habit?"

"Hmm," Again the ambiguous mumble.

This time he wasn't going to wriggle out of it. _I damn well have a right to know if I'm going to be sleeping with someone every…wait. That wasn't at all right. _ Blanching at the horrible thought, I lost my momentum, blanking on what exactly I had been about to say in the first place. So, being a prodigy and overflowing with social tact, I _very_ suavely compensated.

"Don't you have any other outfit?" I blurted, wincing at the bumbling turn in conversation. _Oh, yeah, that was smooth there, Jack. Real smooth._

"Well, I've been trapped in a horrible dimension for the last few years so…" He glanced down, shrugging. "I guess not."

"No need to get sarcastic on me," With intentional hypocrisy, I guffawed. So he was finally learning the way it worked! Of course, it's hard to _not _pick something up when in the presence of the master of retorts.

Baffled, he at last looked away at that oh-_so_-complex puzzle. "What?"

After a moment, I deadpanned, realizing I had assumed too much of him. With a sigh, I asked the question I already knew the answer to. "…That wasn't a sarcastic little jibe, was it?"

He shook his head wordlessly.

Sighing, I stood up, figuring the cereal was soggy enough to warrant tossing it. "Well, I'll dig up something that'll fit you. Gah, I hadn't realized I had grown so much taller. Still, there's probably something around here."

"Oh, goody, new clothes!" He giggled, slipping out of the chair with a prancing leap. "Wee!"

In the next second he was gone, dancing about down the hallway. For good measure, I hollered after him, "And you're taking a shower, too!" Still, I was grinning despite my sincerest attempt to be stoic and cold.

The grin faltered. "Oh, God, I sound like my _parents_." Groaning at the horrifying thought, I trudged after, fighting back the urge to repeat some Very Bad Words.

---

Oil covered my arms up to the shoulders, splattered across my shirt and pants and face like blood at a surgery. The bared wires glinted dully under the stringent lights, gleaming morosely. For now it was a mass of junk; wires and metal and chips, but soon it would be greater than the sum of its parts, a hulking monstrosity of leviathan proportions, promising a cold, uncompromising death to all who dared to stand against it.

I gave it a week, tops.

The monks would probably trash it overnight, if the previous track record was any indication.

I sighed and made a motion to wipe the icky smudge off my face, but only succeeded in getting it everywhere else. But I supposed there are worse things to be covered in, like cow slobber, or month old garbage from a city district, or something like that. Still, it was a rather uncomfortable sensation.

Gack swung by on the chair, too-long t-shirt draping over his lanky frame. "Whatcha doin'?" He asked as he whirled by, clinging hard to the arms.

"Building something," I responded automatically in a bland tone, digging through my assorted implements with one hand. The coaxial cable was being finicky, frankly. It continuously was sidling to the left, which of course put it at risk of running into a conductor. Curious to see if it was the center conductor, I took out a section nearest the fore, cleanly sliced through the jacket, prying apart the metallic insulator shield and dielectric insulator. The copper wire was fine, but that was ever the case; just because it _seemed_ to be didn't mean it _was_. Maybe it just had a bend in it somewhere.

Carefully, I felt along the paraffin casing, wondering if I should run a current through to see if it would go in and up cleanly. It could potentially do a lot of damage if….

"No touching," I grunted automatically, swatting away an invasive hand that went for a mass of colorful wires.

"What're these for?" He asked brightly, flicking himself back and forth on the chair.

"Stuff," I answered, as if it explained everything. Maybe it wasn't the coaxial cable – some could be easily pushing it from where the central systems in the back were. It would be damn hard to work past all that delicate wiring around it, however. Potentially, it could set me back by a few hours. "Curious." I said to the half-finished robot, tapping my hand against the hard heat-treated steel, perplexed.

Normally I would have gone with titanium, my favorite type of metal, for its lightness and strength, but this was not a 'mobile' type of robot. Quite simply, it was a wreaking ball of destructive technology; it swung around, but rarely moved. Thus, the heat-treated steel, of a good enough grade, would withstand harder blows and such. That can mean a lot if you're fighting people who can freaking drop mountains on your head.

Back to the wiring. Sometimes the insides are more important than the covering, really. One faulty system and BOOM! Bye-bye doom-bot.

Maybe it was the rubber joint. It had been a tad thicker than my calculations had called for, but I couldn't exactly wait around for the next time a shipment came. Lazy company, really. You practically had to scream it a dozen times that you want a 11.2 inch thickness to get it through their skulls. But no-o-o, they cut a foot, because it's '_easier'. _Bah.

"What kind of stuff?" Gack, unknowing of my inner rant, spun around in a circle, drawing his legs up to add speed. Ah, centripetal force; lovechild of adrenaline junkies and scientists.

"Robotic kind of stuff," I answered, again vague.

Gack sighed, spinning around once more before placing both feet flat upon the floor. "I'm bored. How long has it been since a Showdown?"

"Three weeks," _Thank goodness. _ I had no intention of _ever _going within a mile radius of the monks again. "Now shush." Soldering the wire to the main chip set, I slapped my goggles over my eyes, careful of the flame.

It was not long before Gack again began to fidget.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" He asked, voice _just _on this side of whining.

I grunted. "No." Ah, a little more that way…damn. Damn damn damn…oh, wait, no, that's fixable. No problem.

"I'm _bored _out of my mind," he explained, as if it would change my mind, though all the reiteration did was agitate me further. "There's nothing for me to do."

"Go feed the birds," I waved vaguely up toward the door, eyeing my handiwork. "The birds that live outside." Not to boast, but it was a pretty clean job. Nearly perfect, even. But of course there was the coaxial cable. That damn thing. I could probably replace it, but what would—

"I already _overfed _the birds," Gack moaned, slumping in the chair. "The got too fat to take off, and then a dog ate them. It was so sad." He sniffled, as if to emphasis his point. "Like a ball massacre or something. Except with birds."

"At least they died with full tummies," I shrugged, amused by the mental image. (Hello, _evil_?) Now, it would have been pretty easy to take it out, if I hadn't gone and done all that work afterward. You'd be surprised how delicate some of that machinery is, in such robots. Still, I could just pull it out along the….

"They weren't full by the time the dog was done with them. One was alive the whole…the whole—" Whimpering pathetically, he suddenly fell across my back, hands wrapping around my waist.

"Hey, watch it!" I tried to shield my precious robot with one arm, flicking back over my memory to recall what he was saying. Unfortunately, all I drew out was something about fat birds. "You choose the strangest moments to have breakdowns." Awkwardly, I managed to twist around, and guided him back into his chair. I think he took it as some gesture of comfort, because he sniffled bravely, giving a watery smile, and lunged up again, flinging his arms around me again.

I braced for the spine-shattering crush, but none came.

Instead, we stood in tableau, my shirt getting a wet spot under his eyes, his face probably getting absolutely covered with oil. Having never really done such a thing before, I didn't have a clue on exactly how long that sort of thing was supposed to last, and stood indecisively, half bent back, hands up and ready to shove him off. It was weird, being that close to someone; a real invasion of personal space…kind of.

Still, it was kind of nice.

I balked at the notion. Where was my evilness going? "Yeah, yeah, alright. Quit your blubbering." Gruffly, I patted him on the head, attempting to extricate myself from the overlong embrace. After all, I can't exactly afford to act any more effeminate, and last I checked, masculinity required one did not hug for this long. "What are you, four?"

Muffled against my chest, Gack laughed. Then, still with that tremulous, watery tone, "Thanks," and let go.

"Uh, okay." I replied eloquently, unsure of the proper conduct. So, to the fallback – humor. "Are we supposed to cuddle now? 'Cause, y'know, I'm a third-date kind of guy." Gack tried to stifle a sudden burst of disbelieving laughter, hands flying over his mouth. I smirked, pleased with the result, and turned back to the doom-bot with a sharp pivot on one heel.

"Jeez, you could at least get me some _flowers_ before crawling into bed with me."

_That_ resulted in a high guffaw. "Well, it's a little late for that." He sniggered, plopping back into the swivel chair. "I mean, really, you should have thought ahead."

Very serious, I turned back around, in the most somber tone I could dredge up, "I really can't afford to get pregnant at this point in my career."

For a moment, we stared at each other gravely, the very image of solemnity. Not a heartbeat after, however, we were curled up, laughing uproariously – robots and monks and good and evil forgotten, if just for a few minutes. For the first time in what seemed like a long time, things were looking up.

Because for right now…even if it was just for a little while, everything was okay. And that was enough, I guess. Enough was better than good.

…Good things never last.

---

14


	5. Relative to Perspective Part One

**Disclaimer**: _I, in no way, shape, or form own Xiaolin Showdown or the characters it contains. All are the intellectual property of Christy Hui and Cartoonnetwork/WB. I do not make any profit off of this story, and write it only for enjoyment and to pass the time. However, I do claim ownership to the writing itself, and hope that those who read this can respect that as well._

**Warning(s)**: _Some foul language is used, and there are some light jokes toward Jack's dubious sexuality. These are teenagers, people._ **MAY CONTAIN SOME SPOILERS FOR SEASONS 1-3.**_So, if that's going to shatter your entire world, you might want to skip this._

_(See Chapter One for further information)_

**Additional Notes**: I have an intense craving for pretzels. Just thought I'd share that.

Ha, I love it when Jack swears. Is that weird? It is, isn't it? Oh well, whatever.

Hmmm… I've listened to an inordinate amount of techno / alternative rock recently. Perhaps this effects the writing? That would explain _so_ many things.

This is incredibly late. Uh… whoops? Unfortunately, writing comes second to life. It might even be a third, in some situations. As baffled as I am by the response to this, it is welcome. Thanks for all the feedback! And again, apologies all around for my blatant, erm, _misinformation_ with the 'expect updates during Spring Break' thing. Unfortunately, the institutes of learning have deemed fit to metaphorically beat me with a sack full of oranges. _Ouchies_.

So. This chapter is the worst yet – which is one reason I wasn't so gung ho to post it up. But, rather than let it rot deep within the confines of my documents, I'm just going to toss it to the wolves, so to speak. Hopefully, I'll be motivated enough to actually finish the second half of the chapter in less time than has been previously displayed. Remember, however, that this is only the first half. Thus, it is short. Short, short, short.

This chapter is irritating as no other. _Argh_.

(-Dances- Oh, god, I _love_ this song.) Enjoy.

**Part 5:**

**Good and Evil – It's All Relative to Perspective**

(_section one_)

The annoying, high pitched beeping seemed to fill the Lair with its reverberation, rebounding from wall to wall, intensely reminiscent of a terrified scream. My breath caught at the sound of it; held between the usual excitement and the sudden gut clenching horror. The screwdriver fell from my strangely numb hands, clattering across the floor to roll to a stop underneath the lip of the counter, the barest edge of it gleaming like a half-hidden eye.

Before I could topple over, I snatched the edge of the counter, bracing against it. Vividly, I recalled the monks' expressions – and the horror sprang up anew.

Oh, god, when I showed up…

_But I don't _**have**_ to show up._

I stooped down to grab the fallen tool, nodding to myself vehemently. The thought was like a revelation; I'd just turn off the detector, and nobody would have to know. It would all blow over. Yeah, I mean, come on, they were beat up weekly by _somebody. _Why would _my _transgression be any different? If I just waited it out, everything would be all right.

It really is amazing what things you can convince yourself are true.

Before I could even straighten fully, Gack was bounding down the stairs, excitedly dancing about.

"Finally, another Showdown!" He took a flying leap, swooping in for a nearly fatal hug. Luckily, with him randomly popping up around corners every day, my reflexes were top notch. He passed harmlessly over my sudden huddle, and I scuttled out of range, arms partially raised in a feeble defense. Gack didn't seem to notice the cowering at all, bouncing on his toes, radiating elated glee. "Let's go already!"

"Uh, I think I'll sit this one out," Cautiously, I lowered my insufficient defenses, straightening up. "I mean, it's a _Saturday. _I never go out on Saturdays. It's like the evil-doers day off."

He seemed to crumple, jaw dropping in disbelief. "But—"

I had to cut him off before anything logical could spew forth. "And there's so much to do!" I gestured broadly at the expanse of my (very nearly empty) worktable, desperately ignoring that cheery little fact. "Yeah, we'll just have to do the next one. It's not that big a deal, anyways. I mean, there are like… a billion of these things anyways."

"We can't just _not _do it," Gack whined, eyes doing that weird… _googly _puppy-eyed thing. His hands slapped together in a pleading gesture, lower lip trembling dramatically. "_Please_?" The word was drawn out for ridiculously long time, ending on a high note. "Pretty please with lots 'n' _lots_ of sugary things on top?"

"No," I told him sternly. "And that's final." To close off the chance for further discussion, I pivoted back around, putting up the pretense of intense study as I stared at the mass of random screws and parts.

I was surprised by a sudden stomp, and a very firm grip whipping me bodily around. I flinched away at the harsh look on his face, prepared to duck if it came to a fight. "Now listen here," my younger reflection growled, wagging a stern finger. "I've been very patiently waiting for a new Wu to appear for weeks. _Weeks_, I say. There is no way we're going to back out of this now. What you are going to do is get your gear and get your butt into one of these… vehicle thingies, _right now _and we are going to go, and _that's _final."

Flabbergasted for but a moment, I surged up at his snide, commanding tone, agitated by the sheer impertinence. "Or _what_?" Before I got any further, he gave the singularly most evil grin I had ever seen in my rather short life.

His hand grabbed my side firmly, and wiggled.

I shrieked with laughter, throwing myself aside to get away from the horribly deft fingers. "Not fair, _not fair_!" When he advanced again, I whirled around, sprinting for the door. Maybe ten steps in, the lights flickered, and died.

"… eep." The jagged breath caught in my abruptly tightened throat. Despite my sincere wish to run, I couldn't move a muscle, frozen as absolutely as a fly in resin. "T-turn b-b-b-back on t-t-the lights, already!" I hated the way my voice quavered, ricocheting around me in taunting circles.

"Are we going?" Quite calmly, Gack inquired from the opaque sheet of darkness.

I was about to snarl and rudely inquire why he wasn't crumpling over in insensate terror, but paused. Of course he wouldn't be – he'd been living in nearly total darkness for the last two years. So, instead, I went for bluntness. "Hell n-no."

He sighed eloquently. "You force me to drastic measures."

"Drastic-?" I squirmed wildly, shrieking again, when he wiggled his fingers into my side again. "Hey, s-stop it!" I slapped at his hands, backing into the elevated staircase. But it was relentless. With nowhere else to flee, I hugged my waist tightly, shielding my oh-so-sensitive sides. "Fine! Fine, we'll go, you crazy bastard!"

"Huzzah!"

---

The dense underbrush of the Amazon River Basin clung tight to the edges of the aircraft, leaves spreading as like strange green hands against the glass. I nervously eyed the foliage, not at all looking forward to wandering in that oppressively humid mess that was often (mistakenly) called a beautiful piece of nature.

A rather fat insect slapped onto the window right next to my head, eliciting a quick jerking motion away from the transparent roof.

"Well, here we are," Gack cheerfully swung his legs back and forth, beaming at the bug. "How cute, it's saying hello."

"You know, we could leave now and no one would ever have to know," Eyeing the creature with far too many appendages, I squirmed uncomfortably. Somewhere, out in that dense jungle, the Xiaolin monks were waiting. I suddenly realized how a lame antelope must feel as it watches the lions approach, inexorably drawn toward a certainly messy death.

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun." Gack laughed, popping open the hatch. Immediately, the humidity clamped down upon us. It was like the air itself had become a physical being, absolutely still despite our mutual gasps. Something thunked solidly into my lap.

"Ew!" I slapped the intruding arthropod, sending it on a high arc into the surrounding brush. "Gah, I _hate_ nature."

I glanced up as Gack slid out of his seat, hitting the thickly padded forest floor with a soft crunch. "Hurry up, slow poke," Giggling, he set off, disappearing into the greenery within moments.

"Hey, wait up," I scrambled out of craft, landing with much less grace on my knees. The heady scent of mulch overwhelmed me; a vibrant tapestry of insects scattered at the surprise of my visit, shining dully in the filtered light as they relocated to other hiding places. With a shudder, I stood back up, dusting off my knees in hurried swipes. "Yucky bugs."

There was a long, long pause as I waited for some sort of response.

Unsurprisingly, given how little lady luck has come to my aid, there was no human reply.

"…Hello?" Meekly, I called out, the trees and their seemingly unnatural _largeness _becoming quite intimidating with a startling abruptness. Something called back in a raucous scream from the canopy. A dark form leapt across the narrow divide of trees, limbs spread wide. That was all it took. "Yeah, okay, running wildly now, bye."

I took off as fast as I could, bolting into the never-ending underbrush. Claustaphobia spurred me to greater speeds as the foliage seemed to lean _inward_, thick leaves and branches smacking into my face and arms. By the strange, asinine reasoning of hysterical panic, I thought if I ran far enough, I'd come to the edge of the forest. It's funny how a mind can desert you right when you need it most.

However hard I was trying, it was inevitable that I would soon run out of breath in such a thick atmosphere. Gasping for air, I slumped against the rough bark of a tree, hands bracing on my knees. After doing the best I could to regain my dubiously termed composure, I stood upright again, apprehensively eyeing my surroundings. I had absolutely no idea where I was. None.

"…Ah. Well. Maybe that wasn't the _wisest_ course of action." I remarked to my besieging enemy of leaf and bough, half expecting some sort of sentient response.

Carefully, I disentangled myself from the brush that had somehow wrapped around my ankle, looking every which way for some sort of familiarity. _Why do trees all look the same_? I could almost see where I had come in, in the way that the leaves were inelegantly bent, their pale, fibrous innards bared to the wan sunlight. But there was no way I could follow that all the way back, with my limited tracking skills.

Ignoring any and all advice I had ever been given regarding forests of any sort, I began walking back, flinching at every sound. Who would have thought forests were so loud? They usually seemed so…peaceful, quiet. But no, this one just _had _to be different.

"When I rule the world, I'm cutting this all down, Green House Effect or not," I mulishly grumbled, shoving hard on a rather thick branch to get it out of my way. I didn't recall passing such a limb before, but who knew. The mind can play all kinds of tricks when someone is frenetically rushing about in strange forests.

I gave some flowers a wide berth, remembering a Discovery special about giant bird-eating spiders that sometimes resided in such places. The last thing I needed was _another _giant spider to haunt my already frightful dreams.

"Why, hello there."

I yelped in startled shock, whirling around fast enough to send me staggering into the nearest trunk. Stabilizing myself once more, I looked at who had sneaked up on me so quietly. My stomach dropped, and proceeded to wriggle distressingly somewhere in the region of my feet.

_Kimiko._

"Oh _snap_," I groaned, sidling around to put the tree between us.

"Ah, Jack, I'm hurt," The diminutive Japanese girl advanced leisurely, a beguilingly sweet little grin perched on her glossed lips. "You weren't trying to avoid me, were you?" She paused in the sauntering little pursuit, placing her tiny hand against an outthrust hip. The smile fell from her mouth, eyes narrowing in distaste. "Because, you and me, we have something to settle."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about," I babbled quickly, keeping that godsend of a tree between us. "I mean, what could we possibly talk about? Differential equations? Yeah, it'd be so very boring, yeah, and we should, _oh my god, _trees _burn_! _Trees burn_!" Shrieking as flame eagerly leapt from her fingers, as enthusiastic as any hound on the scent of the wounded deer, I dove off into the brush, struggling against the clinging vines that impeded my progress.

"Hold still!" She shrieked, tearing off after me.

Oh yeah. Like I was _really_ going to do that.

Wrenching free of the prison of vines, I tore through the flimsy growth, not at all caring where I ended up. Behind me, I could hear plants _whooshing _as they went up in flames – the flames intended for yours truly.

I'm pretty sure I was jabbering something in the vain attempt to dissuade the crazy wench from her warpath, but I'm also pretty sure, whatever it was, made absolutely _no_ sense. Still, it was better than trying to stand and calmly rationalize with her – there is no logical way dealing with an angry fire-wielding midget.

Hitting a root, I stumbled forward, barely catching myself in time to avoid a low Judolette flip. Rolling aside, I took off in a new direction, screaming for the love of all that was holy for _someone_ to _save me_.

Unsurprisingly, no one did.

Rationalizing that I wouldn't be able to keep up this rabid game of murderous tag much longer, I took to the thing I knew best: loosing the enemy. After all, I'm practically a professional when it comes to running away-

Let's just say I get a _lot_ of practice.

Putting on a burst of speed, I made it look as if I intended to continue on the clearest path, avoiding the thick shrubbery on either side. When I heard Kimiko going in for a second Judolette flip, I flung out one arm, hooking it around a narrow sapling, and allowed centripetal force to do its thing.

"Hey!" The lone monk shouted, her attack for nothing as she dove past the narrow opening I had hurled myself into.

Panting, I risked a gander back to see what my handiwork had done. Upon reflection, I realized this was very stupid.

"_Umph_!" I grunted as I, at full tilt, collided something unbearably solid, legs flying out from underneath me. My lungs seemed incapable of drawing vital breath, leaving me a choking wreck on the ground. Still, ever curious, I looked up to what I had hit, and that's when _it_ came tumbling down.

I yelped as a decidedly solid, heavy object collided with my abused noggin, instinctively raising up my hands to cradle the site of pain. But what I clutched was definitely _not _the top of my head.

A tiny hand abruptly slapped down over mine. "Jack Spicer, I challenge you to a Xiaolin Showdown."

"… Huh?" I very intelligently responded squinting at the bright light that poured from the top of my head. Tentatively, I craned back, blinking at the eclipse that was Omi's cranium. Though my mind screamed a thousand things to say, the most I could manage was a subdued, "Ah. Okay."

"The game is King of the Treetop. First one knocked down loses." Omi dictated with an unusual seriousness, stiff and formal at best- cold and condescending at _reality. _"My Lotus Twister against your Mask of Janus."

"Uh, okay," That seemed to be the only response I could generate, and I decided to roll with it. "I accept."

From behind me, Kimiko snarled in thwarted wrath, huffily slumping against a tree even as the others of our respective parties trickled in. I knew Raimundo was nearby, probably by the crazed fire-happy wench, and made a point to not look back.

_Damn conscience._

"Let's go, _Xiaolin Showdown_," Omi began, and I found myself joining him on reflex. A pity, really, that I had too much pride to just turn tail and rush away screaming.

This was not going to be a pleasant experience.

---

Gack frowned as he watched his evil counterpart accept the challenge. He had been so looking forward to a Showdown for weeks – and now he wasn't even going to _participate_. What a jip.

Still, it promised some entertainment, at the very least. Better than staring at the myriad of robots all day – forbidden to touch, naturally.

Accidentally explode one robot and it just loomed over your head forever. The world was _so_ unfair.

One pale hand slapped against a tree trunk as the immediate area decided to warp reality – becoming one of the usual, spectacular arenas of the Showdown. Detachedly, he watched the two combatants rise up, high into the treetop, not stopping the petulant sulk that slapped across his achromatic features. Oh, that looked like such fun, way up there. He loved such dazzling heights – the giddiness of it appealed to him.

Thinking on previous experiences, he smiled hesitantly.

"_Gong Yi Tanpai_!"

The smile crashed, the corners of his mouth drawing low. It really wasn't at all fair; Jack hadn't even wanted to go, after all.

Sighing, he watched as Omi, predictably, made the first move, legs and arms expanding to bat at the trench-coated form of Jack. The goth, to his credit, managed to dip out of the way, though he gracelessly tripped not three steps into his evasion, landing in a sprawl across one thick branch. The tiny monk slapped at his recumbent form, and missed spectacularly, not at all used to the Wu that he rarely relied upon.

It gave Jack enough opening to sidle away, shimming down to the basin of the tree, clearly uncertain as he put on the Mask. He was probably experiencing intense déjà vu, given how closely the situation resembled a past Showdown.

Gack eyed the spot where his older half had disappeared. It certainly wouldn't do if Jack was still standing there; he should be moving, fully employing the deceptive nature of his Wu—

Someone touched his arm, drawing his attention away from the ensuing battle above.

"Hello," Kimiko said cheerfully, offering a congenial smile. "I think we should have a little chat – it's been so long, after all." Her eyes glinted briefly – rather ominously, if one were so inclined to think on it.

Gack's returning grin was wholly unreserved. "Sure," He replied blithely, being not in the least observant of the subtleties of the female face. Kimiko's crooked grin widened, lips curling high enough to bare the bare pink edges of her gums. A predatory smile, honestly.

Childishly, Gack overlooked the obvious. Kimiko, as he remembered, was a nice person. Nice, _and_ always interestingly garbed.

Maybe this wouldn't be so very boring, after all.

---


End file.
